


The Lives We Choose

by Kuraagins



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 15:15:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6962185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuraagins/pseuds/Kuraagins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark isn't fazed but the news of her Aunts new husband, but after she meets him at the wedding, she finds herself likening Petyr a little more than a niece should. </p><p>Petyr Baelish is an accountant, notorious for his shifty deals and well known nightclub-'The Silver Mockingbird.' When he meets his new niece, who's more perfect version of his childhood sweetheart, he wants nothing more than to bring her into his world of sin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Pink Wedding

Sansa had never been to a wedding party. But she was certain they weren't supposed to be like this. She'd spent hours of the past week deciding what to wear, how to do her hair and makeup and too much time on working out which jewellery would go best with whatever outfit she chose. The night before she'd found it. The perfect wedding outfit. It was a mint green dress that wrapped around itself, black wedge heels and a butterfly pendant and matching earrings; she wore eyeshadow of the same colour as her dress and a pretty pink lipstick that made her lips look natural still, but obvious enough to be noticed. She'd felt beautiful trying it on the previous night, but she couldn't help but feel overdressed at the actual wedding. 

Her mother was wearing a plain green dress and her father a boring shirt and pants. Her brothers Robb, Rickon and Bran were all wearing suits, to their credit, but only Robb wore a tie. Arya, much to her dismay, was forced into a dress; but it wasn't even a nice dress, it was much too casual for a wedding. Plus it had multiple creases and unidentifiable stains that Sansa didn't dare ask where they'd come from. 

She felt like she was the only one in her family who had actually put proper thought into her outfit. Until she saw her aunt Lysa. 

She was wearing a repulsive pink dress that was far too tight and short for someone of her age. No makeup, nothing done with her hair (Sansa doubted she had even brushed it), and her she was wearing sandals for lords sake! Sansa nearly passed out when she saw her horrendous attire-and she'd allowed her nine year old son Robin to show up in scruffy jeans and a transformers t-shirt!-but of course she played the part of Catelyn Stark's perfect and well mannered daughter and told her aunt Lysa that she looked beautiful on her (second) wedding day. 

Her first husband, Jon Arryn, had passed away two years ago and Lysa had been practically driven mad by his death. And yet here she was, hardly any time later, with her new husband on her arm, all smiles and laughter. Like Jon Arryn had never even existed. 

His name was Petyr Baelish, her mother had told her. She'd also told her to 'be wary about him' whatever that was supposed to mean. He seemed nice enough, and said nothing out of the ordinary for a man meeting his new 17 year old niece for the first time. She didn't really understand what her mother meant. Plus, Sansa also liked him because aside from her, he seemed to be the only one here dressed appropriately for a wedding party.

So here she was, sat at the dullest wedding party in the universe. Not that she'd ever been to a wedding before, but based off what she'd seen on the television, there was meant to be dancing, and laughter and just fun in general. And the bride was meant to be wearing a beautiful white dress, not whatever the hell her aunt Lysa was wearing. At this wedding, there was about 25 people max, all sat around a long table in some sort of church hall, 'enjoying' a wedding meal. (It tasted rank.) 

"Mum why couldn't I stay at home with Jon and Theon!" She heard Arya whine. Jon was her half brother, and Theon her adopted one. She didn't really mind either of them, they were still family to her, but her mother despised Jon. 

"You know why!" Catelyn snapped at Arya, "because they are not Aunt Lysa's family and I doubt she would want them at her wedding party!" 

Somewhere nearby little Robin was throwing a temper tantrum because he wanted more cake before he ate his meal. Her Aunt was far too soft with that boy, she'd already let him have one piece before dinner, and it was obvious she was soon going to give in and let him have another. Sansa just thanked the gods that she wasn't breastfeeding him anymore, as she had been doing two years ago.

All the screaming and whining of children (Robin's tantrum had set nine year old Rickon off now) was getting a bit much for Sansa, and she decided she needed some fresh air. 

"Excuse me," she said politely as she briskly walked outside. She let out a sigh of relief as the cold winter air embraced her and kissed her cheeks, making them blush. "Winter is coming..." She mumbled quietly. They were her father's words, and they had turned into a family motto of sorts. "More like winter is already bloody here." She stated, to no one in particular, "it's freezing!" 

She regretted not brining a coat with her, but what could be done. She never expected she'd be sitting outside in the cold by herself durning a wedding party. Jumping up onto a nearby wall, she pulled out her phone, praying that she'd get signal here to message her closest friend Margery, who was throwing a Christmas party in a few weeks time that Sansa was just so excited for. 

"Yes!" She whooped, a little too loudly, probably, over a weak signal. Clicking on Margery's name on messenger, she saw that she was online and began to quickly type. 

'Hey! Stuck at this dull family wedding atm, you need to save me from dying of boredom lol xo'

Sansa grinned as Margery started typing back immediately. 

'Wow is it really that bad aha? Xx' 

'You have no idea. You should see the state of my aunt she looks horrendous. And she let her little boy wear a bloody transformers top-to a wedding!!!' 

'Ooh does not sound good! You'll have to show me pictures of this whole ordeal, I'm curious to see your aunts dress sense now!' 

'I assure you, me and my brothers and new uncle seem to be the only ones here dressed for an actual wedding??' 

'What's he like then? Your new uncle?'

Sansa was about to type back when she saw the man in question exit the church hall and give her a warm smile as he strode towards her. 

"Aren't you cold out here?" Was the first thing he said, with a smirk. 

"Freezing." She replied, "but I didn't really imagine I'd be spending my time out here in the cold." 

"I take it you got sick of Robin's crying and screaming?" 

"W-well... It was Rickon and Arya too, you know, my siblings," she told him hastily, worried she might have offended her new uncle. He only chuckled. 

"You don't have to pretend Sansa, I'm out here for the same reason," 

"Oh." Was the only thing she could think to say. She thought quickly of something to change the subject with, when she noticed a pin on the man's lapel. 

"That's pretty..." She said quietly, mostly to herself if she was being honest. She involuntarily reached out to stroke the bird on his chest with a gentle finger. 

"Ah, you like it?" He asked with a smile, "it's a mockingbird, my dear. I wear it everywhere." 

"Why?" She said stupidly. 

He chuckled again, "well why not?" He raised an eyebrow.

Sansa smiled at him. She liked this man, really she did. She couldn't understand why her mother had warned her about him. 

"Do you mind if I join you?" He gestured to the wall.

"Oh, of course!" She smiled at him and shuffled over to give him some space. The man hopped up easily. 

"So tell me Sansa, how old are you?" 

"17 Mr Baelish," she wasn't sure what else to call him, "I'm studying my A levels," 

"I see," he said simply, "and please, you can call me Petyr, Sansa," 

Petyr smiled at her again. She liked it when he did that. It made her feel good. 

"How old are you?" Sansa asked him, 

"That's a little rude don't you think?" He teased.

"You asked me!" 

"Alright, alright!" He lifted his arms up in mock surrender, "let's just say... I'm younger than your aunt and sister, but not too much younger,"

"37" she guessed,

Petyr genuinely looked puzzled, "how did you...?" 

"I have a good eye Mr Baelish," she laughed and threw him a joking wink.

He laughed again, and looked at her with his grey eyes. There was silence for a moment before his faced turned serious and showed an expression on the man that she couldn't quite put her finger on. He whispered something to himself. It sounded a lot like, "you look just like her, but..." 

He took some strands of her hair and stroked it softly. "You have very beautiful hair," he told her. 

"Oh, thank you," she blushed, not knowing what to say. She didn't really understand what was going on. 

All of a sudden, Petyr hopped off the wall and the moment was over. "My apologies, we should be getting back inside. My wife will be waiting for us," he offered her his hand and she took it. She knew he meant that Lysa would only be waiting for him and there was something strange in the way he said 'my wife, but she decided that she didn't really care. 

"Oh, and Sansa?" 

"Yes?" 

"Will you save a dance for me tonight?" 

She smiled happily and she told him that she would. 

As soon as they re entered the hall, Petyr dropped her hand and rejoined Lysa and Robin. She, regrettably, sat back down with her own family to endure the lovely whines of Rickon and Arya. There was a quick glance between her and Petyr and he gave her a smile again. It made her stomach feel weird, but in a good way. All of a sudden she remembered Maragery's forgotten message. 

'He's wonderful'


	2. 'The Things I Do For Money'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone for your kind comments on the last chapter! I hope I can live up to your expectations with the rest of the story haha   
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

"... So we will have to borrow some more money, but I can assure you this event will gain the company a lot of publicity and- if we play our cards right- some potential new partners," 

Ned Stark was a very stubborn man, Petyr was finding. Robert Baratheon (president of Baratheon Throne Co) had insisted on throwing a company party, in the honour of his new Vice President, Eddard Stark. 

Petyr was called in to advise Robert and the rest of his council on how they were going to afford it. Petyr thought it was a very good opportunity for the company to branch out. Ned thought it was a stupid idea and a waste of time. 

"I don't like the idea of borrowing more money," Ned stated gruffly, "we don't need to throw a ridiculous party-it'll be a waste of time and money. Money that isn't ours!" 

"Mr Stark, I'm afraid I have to agree with Littlefinger on this one. This party has the potential to unify some of the major rivalling business in England. We could invite the Lannisters, the Greyjoys, the Tullys, the Tyrells... And we could even go as far as to invite the Martells from Dorne. This party has so much more potential than just another social event, Eddard. Don't let this opportunity go to waste," 

This was said by Varys. Petyr couldn't help but agree with him, as much as he cringed at the use of his nickname. Petyr wasn't entirely sure what Varys did for Robert or the Baratheon Throne Company, but he thought that it was something to do with publicity and media. As well as spying on other companies, but that was only a rumour of course. A rumour that Petyr certainly believed. 

The rest of the council murmured their agreement with Varys. In addition to himself, Varys and Ned, there was Renly, Robert's younger brother; Mr Pycell (who frankly didn't do very much for the company); and Barriston Selmy, an old but strong man who had been in Robert's service for many years. There had been Stannis Baratheon, Robert's other brother, but he had left the previous year to start up his own business with a strange woman name Melisandre. 

"It's a good idea Ned. The party will go ahead anyway since the majority of the council agree to it, so you might as well try and see reason." Robert told Ned. 

Ned frowned and folded his arms, but nevertheless uttered: "I suppose it isn't the worst idea you've ever had, Robert," 

The company president grinned widely. "There you go Ned! I told you all he'd come around!" 

\----------

"So, how was your wedding Mr Baelish?" Varys asked Petyr as they exited the conference room. 

Petyr grimaced at the memory. It had been a horrible ceremony. Lysa Tully had looked purely revolting in that pink dress of hers, and he could scarcely believe she had allowed her son to wear jeans a a t-shirt to a wedding. 

He also had trouble recalling that night without vomiting. Lysa was not an attractive woman in any way, but he found her even more disgusting as she was lying completely naked on his-no, their- bed, screaming as loud and as unattractive as humanly possible. Petyr had seriously contemplated ending his own life in that moment. 

'The things I do for money,' he thought to himself. The only thing that had got him through that day was Lysa's beautiful niece, Sansa Stark. He'd actually mistaken her for Catelyn at his first glance, but as he looked closer he saw she was taller, had paler skin and longer legs, and lighter hair that appeared to shine in the otherwise gloomy church hall. She was much more beautiful that Cat had ever been. He cursed that Lysa was keeping close eyes on him that day, and he only had enough time to enjoy a talk with her outside the church hall along with a few passing words, as well as a single dance with her before Lysa stole him away again. He remembered that dance fondly. She was as tall as him, in her heels, and they were pressed up close as they swayed to the music. Sansa seemed so elegant and graceful in her movements, Petyr wondered if she did dance lessons. He had his hand on her waist, and hers was on his shoulder, and their other hands intertwined. It took Petyr a lot of self control to resist from kissing here right there and then. But she was young. Probably too young to be interested than an older man such as himself. 

He was almost ashamed to admit that he had thought of her on his wedding night, and not his new wife, but Petyr didn't feel shame the way that normal people did, and was just thankful that he hadn't accidentally said her name during intercourse with Lysa. 

He was also thankful that he had the blessing of seeing Sansa again the next day. They'd sent Robin to stay over at the Stark house the night of their wedding. Petyr had insisted that they didn't go on a honeymoon (he could hardly stand one night of sex with that beast, how could he last a fortnight?) and the Starks had kindly agreed to take him off their hands for a night. 

"Sorry if I'm a little early bringing him home Mr Baelish," she'd said shyly on his doorstep, "it's just, mum, dad, Robb and Jon are busy today, and I couldn't take him to my ballet class or leave him at home with only Theon to look after him as well as the others," 

Petyr had smiled at her, "it's no problem at all Sansa," he told her, secretly greatfull that he wouldn't have to spend any more time alone with Lysa. "And please, you can call me Petyr. Thank you for bringing him back. Would you like to come in for a bit?" He asked, holding the door open as Robin charged inside, screaming for his mother. 

"I can't, sorry, thank you very much for the offer though. I have to get to my ballet class," 

Petyr noticed that she looked very pretty in her dance attire. A simple cardigan over her leotard and leggings; and her hair scraped up into a bun on the top of her head. 

"Of course, I wouldn't want to keep you from your dance class," he lied. He very much wanted to keep her from his dance class. 

She'd left after an exchange of farewells and Petyr was left alone to face the completely awful duo that was the Tulley/Arryn family. 

"How do you think it was?" Petyr replied to Varys' question bitterly. 

"Come now, Lysa Tully-or should I call her Lysa Baelish-can't possible be that bad," 

"Do not call her Lysa Baelish," he hissed, "and herself and her boy are completely insane. The sooner I get the Arryn accounts the better." 

"But that will take time Mr Baelish. Lysa Tully is a cautious woman as I'm sure you know. She won't let you near Jon Arryn's accounts until she completely trusts you. And that will most definitely be a chore. No offence Littlefinger, but you're not exactly the most likeable person in the world." 

"Well, at least I have my coping methods," he muttered, 

"Ooh do tell, do you go out and fuck your whores? Imagine someone else whilst making love to her? You've piqued my curiosity now Mr Baelish." 

"They're not whores and I'd never fuck a prostitute, let alone my own workers. And why should I tell you Varys? We all know you don't keep secrets for anyone." 

Varys chuckled, "that is true Mr Baelish. Sometimes it seems that you're the only one around here who's wise enough to distrust me." 

"What can I say? I'm a smart man," Petyr joked. But it wasn't really a joke. 

"That you can be, Littlefinger. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to be getting on with. I wish you luck in your new marriage... And I hope you find happiness, one way or another." 

\----------

"... And then Rickon Stark shoved me Petyr! But it's okay because then I ripped up his work, but then the teacher yelled at me which is really unfair!" 

Picking up Robin from school was proving be be painful for Petyr. The little shit just wouldn't. Shut. Up. 

Petyr had tuned out a while ago, but had given Robin the occasional nod or grunt of agreement to show he was still listening. 

Lysa was out with Catelyn for the afternoon, and had left Petyr in charge of little Robin. Gods know why, he hated children, and children hated him. 

A sharp kick to his shins forced him to tune back into Robin, whilst glaring at him angrily. 

"You shouldn't kick people Robin. Especially not adults," Petyr told him sternly. He wouldn't show it on the outside, but Robin's kick actually hurt like a bitch. 

"Yeah well you're not my dad so you can shut up! Besides you deserved it because you weren't listening to me," 

"Whether you like it or not I'm your father by law since I married your mother. And I was listening y-" Petyr stopped himself before he could call Robin a little shit. That would not go down well with Lysa, and he really needed to gain her trust as quick as possible. 

"I hate you," Robin informed him. 

"Trust me, I feel the same." Petyr muttered under his breath. 

They walked the rest of the way to the car in silence. The school had some bullshit 'no parking outside the school' rule, and didn't provide an actual car park. So Petyr had to park bloody miles away from the school, and was forced to endure a 'walk of shame' of sorts. Lysa was a popular gossip topic amongst the younger mothers of Robin's classmates, and since he'd stepped out of his car he'd saw the looks and heard the whispers. "Is that him?" "It can't be can it?" "He's far too good looking for that old bat," "well who else would he be here for if not that problematic child of hers?" "He must be crazy to have married her," 

He actually agreed with that last one. No matter how much money he could earn from Jon Arryn's accounts, surely it was not worth the pain of marriage to Lysa Tully.

He was put out of his irritation when the eldest Stark child, (Robb, Petyr recalled his name being,) who was there to pick up the youngest Stark boy, came over to speak with him, causing the gossiping mothers to stop their whispering to eavesdrop. The conversation seemed forced, like he was only speaking to be polite, but Petyr didn't mind. After all, most of his conversations at work and related dinner parties were just like that. At least Robb was polite enough to converse with Petyr. It was more than Catelyn Stark had given him at his wedding. Years of not seeing her and she could barely even look at him. Her daughter had been much more pleasurable company, but Sansa seemed to excel in everything compared to her mother. 

He'd found out a lot about the Stark family from their short conversation, nevertheless. They had a huge house for all seven children (one of said children was a bastard and another adopted) and six Czechoslovakian Wolf Dogs, one for each child bar Theon. And Jon had only got one because Robb had found him crying about it later on that day, and convinced his father to buy him a dog too. Theon was offered a dog too, but in Robb's words: "he was too proud to admit that he'd been a little upset as well, and refused father's offer," 

The children had named their own dogs too. Petyr didn't really pay attention to that bit, apart from learning that Sansa had named her dog Lady, which he found quite adorable, and incredibly fitting for her. 

All of the Stark kids seemed impeccably mannered and well behaved. Which made Petyr curse (not for the first time) that he wasn't married to the other sister, and was stuck with Robin as a child. How two sisters could raise two completely different types of children was beyond him. Rickon Stark (who was the same age as Robin) had very polite manners, and was extremely respectful towards his parents. Whereas Robin was a rude little cunt and enjoyed hitting both Petyr and his mother, which he did again as they reached Petyr's car. 

"Robin!" He snapped, "what did I just say?" 

"I don't care what you say, I hate you!" Robin screamed. 

People were staring. Petyr wanted nothing more than to slap the boy silly and drive off, leaving him stranded and most likely crying. 

Instead Petyr smiled as wide as he could manage. "Get in the car Robin. We'll speak of this when we get home." 

"No! You're so stupid I wish you'd never married my mother I want you to die!" 

Petyr's face turned dark, and Robin almost immediately stopped his flailing around in anger. Petyr rarely used this scowl for even his worst of enemies, and so badly didn't want to use it in front of Lysa or Robin, but the boy was pushing him too far. 

"I-I'll get in the car," Robin whispered almost fearfully at how drastically Petyr's facial expressions changed. He scrambled into the car and Petyr followed suit, and smiled at the boy again. 

"I'm glad you did that. I really do want to like you Robin, but you cannot and will not get your own way all the time while I'm around. I am not your mother and I will not tolerate your insolent behaviour." 

The car ride home was completely silent. Robin didn't even bother to mess with the radio like he always does. It was a long ten minutes, but Petyr was glad to be rid of Robin when they got home as well. 

"I'm going to watch TV," Robin announced as they entered their house (it had been Petyr's but Lysa insisted on moving in after a month of their 'romantic relations'.) Robin pattered off into the living room whilst Petyr went downstairs to his study.

'I suppose I really did give him a fright,' he thought to himself. He decided to apologise later, but only if he could manage it after finishing off his work and before Lysa returned home. 

Practically crashing into his chair, Petyr opened up his laptop. He was going to open up some documents and go over them, but decided that he'd had a rough day and could perhaps browse Facebook for a minute... Or fifteen. 

He didn't know what possessed him to type in what he did in the Facebook search box, but he did it anyway. 

'Sansa Stark,' 

He had a feeling that he shouldn't be doing this, that it was wrong. 'It's only an uncle looking for his new niece on Facebook,' he told himself, 'surely there isn't anything indecent about that,' he wasn't really convincing himself. Especially not the way his stomach jumped when her page opened up. 

Her profile picture was a photo of her and another girl Petyr recognised as Margaery Tyrell (from the many photos in Olenna Tyrell's office, a business partner of his.) They both looked very beautiful, especially Sansa in that... Very short dress. 

Petyr bit his lip as he studied the photo. He felt very indecent looking at it. Perhaps he was, perhaps this wasn't very normal for an uncle. But he was new at this uncle thing so he found himself forgiving his most likely creepy behaviour. 

Could he send her a friend request? Would that be too weird? Probably. On the other hand, if he did, he could see all her photos, and perhaps even have a means of talking to her away from family parties, away from her mother.... No. No. This was so wrong. This was a new low even for Petyr Baelish. 'I can't do it,' he though, 'I can't corrupt this beautiful young girl, no matter how gorgeous she is.' 

And what happened next Petyr swears was an accident. A slip of his hand.

'Friend request sent'


	3. Meetings at The Red Keep

Cafés were Sansa and Margaery's favourite places to go and bitch about other girls after school. Particularly this new one that Sansa's own mother had recommended to her, called The Red Keep. 

"You don't mean that Jeane Poole, do you?" Margaery gasped, "the one that smells of urine and never stops crying over the most trivial things? That Jeane Poole?" 

"The very same," Sansa giggled. 

"Surely not! I mean... How on earth did she get one boy in bed with her? Let alone three!" 

"I'm just looking forward to finding out how she intends on discovering which one's the dad," 

"You mean she doesn't know?" 

"No! Well she has been sleeping with three boys within days of each other, no wonder she doesn't know," 

Margaery laughed and took a sip of her cappuccino. "I can't believe that she still trusts you, Sansa Stark. You've got the biggest mouth in the whole school but no one seems to notice!" 

"I'm careful who I pass things along too, that's all. And she thinks that just because we're childhood friends and her dad works for mine, that I'm immediately bound to secrecy for whatever she tells me," 

The bell above the coffee shop door rang cheerfully, and Sansa groaned in annoyance, as Arya Stark and her friend (possibly boyfriend) Gendry entered. 

"For fucks sake, I swear whenever I think I've found somewhere new to hang out away from her, she still finds it," 

"Don't worry, I doubt she'll cause a scene with that boy around her. Who is he? Don't tell me Arya Stark's got a boyfriend! And he's not half bad looking either!" 

"His name's Gendry or something, and she says he's not her boyfriend but I mean-look at them," 

"They certainly do look in love. Almost like you, in your early stages of dating Joffrey," Margaery was teasing her now. 

"Don't even remind me of Joffrey. Dating him was the worst decision of my life. Probably one of the only times I should have listened to my parents."

"Ugh, I know right! Tommen is much better in every way, I can assure you," 

"I still can't believe you're dating a year 11, I bet he's thrilled to be with an older college girl," 

"Well he's certainly... Very enthusiastic," Margaery winked as Sansa made a fake-vomit sound. 

"Too much info Margaery!" 

They both sipped their drinks before launching into a new conversation topic. 

"Did I tell you by the way? That Arya got a tattoo?" Sansa whispered, as to not be overheard by her younger sister who was sat nearby. 

Any chance of being discreet was ruined by Margaery yelling: "what?! Are you serious?! Your mother will kill her!" 

"I know, I know! But could you maybe..." Sansa gestured downwards to inform Margaery to shut up, because the girl in question was sitting mere feet away from them. 

"Oh right sorry!" Margaery said, a lot quieter now. "But what on earth possessed her? What did she get? And where?" 

"She got some words. 'Valar Morghulis' it says. Some foreign words that mean 'everyone dies' or something morbid like that. She got it here-" Sansa pointed to just above her left breast, "- to hide it from mum, and I'll bet you any money she only got it to match Jon, he got his in around the same place, and that was some weird phrase too. She'll be bored of it within a week." 

"I do like your Jon's tattoo though, it's nice. 'For this night and for all', wasn't it? I think that's a lot prettier than whatever Arya's says," 

"I suppose so... I do wonder how a fifteen year old girl managed to get a tattoo done though. I think that Gendry went with her, he might have convinced them she's eighteen, since he looks it himself. He's not even 17 yet though," 

"He will be soon though, he's in your year isn't he?" 

"Yes he is, not that I really pay much attention to him. Not really my type of person." 

"Clearly! I mean he's dating Arya, and you two are polar opposites," 

Another sip of coffee was drunk by both girls before a new conversation topic came up. One that Sansa really hoped Margaery wouldn't bring up. 

"So, tell us about your new uncle then!" 

"What's there to tell?" She laughed nervously, but she could feel the blush creeping up her face at the memory of him. 

"What's he like? Is he nice? Is he... Nice?" Margaery put extra emphasis on the second 'nice', to show that she was talking about his attractiveness, and not his kindness.

"I don't know what to tell you that I haven't already! I've only really met him once," 

"And you haven't told me what you think of him. Come on Sansa, you're blushing! I bet you have a bit of a crush," 

"I don't!" 

"You're blushing even more now!" Margaery practically shrieked with laughter. "Surely you have a picture of him or something, I need to see this man for myself now!" 

Sansa's phone buzzed in her lap. She unlocked it to see what new notification she had. 

"Don't hide behind your phone Sansa, I need the details!" 

Sansa's heart practically skipped a beat. 

'Petyr Baelish sent you a friend request' 

Oh god what should she do? She couldn't decline it, nor did she want to, but shouldn't she find it a little weird that her new uncle was searching her on Facebook? No, it probably wasn't like that. Maybe he just saw a picture of her from Catelyn's Facebook and found her that way. Yeah, that was probably it. Or, perhaps she was just reading far too much into a simple Facebook friend request and it was just something completely innocent. 

Sansa looked up from her phone to find Margaery giving her a puzzled look. 

"What is it Sansa?" She asked. When she didn't reply Margaery snatched the phone out of her hands. 

"No-wait!" Sansa yelled, grabbing for the phone back but it was too late. Margaery was silent for a moment as she read over the notification, and then she looked up at Sansa, grinning wildly. 

"So, you're new uncle sent you a friend request on Facebook huh?" 

"That doesn't mean anything Margaery. Could I have my phone back please?" 

"If it doesn't mean anything, then you don't mind that I've accepted the friend request right?" 

"You did what?" Sansa shrieked, "you can't answer a friend request that quickly! Everyone knows that means you're desperate!" 

"I thought you said it doesn't mean anything? Surely he won't think you're desperate for responding to an innocent friend request?" Margaery winked as she proceeded to scroll down his Facebook page. "I tell you what though Sansa, you're new uncle's a bit of alright, I mean, I wouldn't mind him being my new uncle. Although I didn't know you were into older men," 

"I'm not into older men! He's my uncle, and also married if you recall?" 

Margaery scoffed, "Sansa, we all know he's not married your aunt for her dashing good looks and charming personality. No offence. You should send him a message!" 

"Alright then, could I have my phone back to send said message?" 

"Oh no worries, I've already sent it for you," 

"What?" Sansa shrieked, again. "What did you say?!" 

"Nothing bad don't worry! All I put was 'hi'," 

Sansa paused for a moment, that wasn't so bad. Wait... 

"Maragery... How many kisses did you put on the end?" 

"... Three," 

"Three?!" 

"And a heart," 

"Oh my God he's going to think I'm really thirsty!" 

"And you aren't?" Margaery teased. 

"No!" She lied, face flushing red. 

"Oh shit he's texting back!" Margaery giggled 

"Fuck Margaery it's not funny!" 

"Okay okay, here," she passed the phone back to Sansa, but moved around to sit next to her. 

Sansa let out a little squeal as the phone vibrated, alerting her that her uncle had responded. 

"What does it say?" Margaery urged. 

'Hello Sansa, how are you doing? Xx' the message read. She turned the phone screen towards Maegaery. 

"See, this isn't going to be weird at all!" Margaery laughed. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps this would just be a normal conversation that would occur between a niece and her new uncle. So then, why did Sansa have a strange feeling fluttering in the pit of her stomach?

\----------

Sansa didn't understand why her heart felt like it was soaring as she walked home from the bus stop with Arya and Gendry. All that had happened was a nice, normal talk with her new uncle. Conversing about their days, how the annoying children in their lives were behaving, it was just so ordinary. So why did Sansa feel weird?

Petyr treated Sansa as if she was a grown up, not some silly child like the rest of her family believed. Maybe that's why she enjoyed talking with him so much. Because he respected her. Yes that was it. Nothing more. 

That was a lie. And she knew it. 

"So, I heard you talking with Margaery about our new Uncle Petyr," Arya piped up and they trudged along the pavement in their previously silent group. "Do you really have a thing for him?" Arya looked a mix of both baffled and disgusted. 

"I do not have a 'thing' for him thank you very much. I'm just curious about him. Aren't you? I mean, he is part of our family now and we've never heard anything about him despite him being childhood friends with mother and aunt Lysa." Sansa lied. Not that she wasn't curious about him, but she knew deep down that Arya was right. Not that she'd exactly been quiet and discreet when talking about him in the cafè, but she was sure she could convince Arya that she was 100 percent not into Petyr Baelish. 

"I am curious about him. But I wouldn't go freaking out about him like you did before. I bet you'd like it if he was a bit curious about you though," Arya raised her eyebrows. 

She was testing her patience. She always did it around her friends. Try to get a reaction out of her so she'd get mad and they would all laugh at her. She tried to calm herself, but Arya's teasing wasn't always so easy to ignore. 

Thankfully, Gendry never really found amusement in Arya's torments, and quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, Arya, do you have any starting ideas for your history presentation or are you just going to copy mine word for word?" He asked. 

"Ooh that second option is sounding really good to me!" Arya grinned at him. They were so obviously in love. Sansa did not like it. 

"Why are you even here?" She asked Gendry, here tone cold, "don't you have a curfew or something at your care home?" 

It was common knowledge in the school that Gendry had lived in a care home since he was a baby. It was once of the reasons Sansa treated him so coldly. He was different to them. Arya shouldn't be hanging around with someone like him, as a member of a very important family in the country. She felt bad for feeling such ways, but it had been drilled into her by her many posh private school teachers as she was growing up. 'We are superior' 'there's no need to bother with the poor' 'in the grand scheme of things, they really don't matter' 

Her mind flickered to Jon and realised, Gendry might even be some rich sod's bastard too. The only difference being, Jon's dad wanted to keep him. A twinge of guilt surged through her, but not enough to make her apologise. 

"Yeah, there is. But um, Arya asked me to help her with her project because I did the same one two years ago, and Yoren from the orphanage, he gave me permission and-" 

"Just leave him alone Sansa!" Arya cut in, "you don't have to be such a bitch! He's here with me because he's my friend and if you don't like it then just leave us alone." 

Arya's words stung her a bit. She knew she was the one out of line here but she was far too proud to admit it. She wanted to get along with her sister, really she did. But whenever she tried their differences and fiery tempers crashed and it would always end in upset. 

"... I could have helped you with your project. I did it too." Sansa said quietly. She said the words to herself and hoped that Arya didn't hear, but the younger girl had remarkably good hearing. 

"Oh yeah that would have ended well," Arya snapped sarcastically, "you're always so uptight and proud. You always want things done your 'perfect' way and if it's not like that then you get mad! Plus you can't even go five minutes without finding something to fault me on, or making some sort of comment towards me!" 

Sansa didn't want to have this argument with Arya, so instead stormed off ahead of the pair, in order to get away from them and return home sooner. 

"See what I mean, she's so unfair! I can't believe..." Arya's voice became quieter and quieter as Sansa stalked away from her sister, nearly breaking into a run as she turned the corner to their estate. Sansa speed walked to the house as quickly as she could and practically threw herself into the doorway. She should have stayed and apologised to her sister. She knew she was being horrible. But she wouldn't. She never did. And she knew that she was a bad person for this. The worst part to Sansa though: she didn't care that she was a bad person anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was meant to be quite a bit longer, but I couldn't find the time to complete it this week and I want to make sure there's weekly uploads for you guys, so my apologies. Hopefully this chapter isn't too dull/short since I had something quite interesting planned for the end, but I guess I'll have what was originally meant to be the end of this chapter as the beginning of next weeks chapter. 
> 
> One other thing, Sansa is a super bitch to Arya and her friends at the minute because she is like a typical rich spoiled brat at the moment. However when she begins to spend more time with Petyr, she'll still be a bit of a bitch but more in the sense of being cunning and betraying people to fulfill her own needs due to Petyr's influence. I will have her growing closer to her sister (and Gendry because cmon Sansa he's a sweetheart) after a certain event transpires between the two siblings in a later chapter ;) I live for the Stark sisters being nice to each other you don't even understand
> 
> Sorry again that I couldn't get this one perfect within on a week, but I hope you enjoy regardless! (Also I've only had time to proof read this once so if there's any spelling/grammar mistakes feel free to point them out and I'll correct them!)


	4. Whores, Clubs and a Seemingly Corrupt Uncle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for 1k hits!

Sansa would have stormed straight upstairs if it wasn't for her mother's voice calling her into the kitchen as she entered the house. 

She dragged herself into the room, clearly annoyed that she was being pulled away from the bed she so desired to take a nap in. 

She quickly corrected her posture as she noticed that her mother had a guest in the house. 

Her aunt Lysa was wearing a green dress (Sansa was thankful that it didn't cling to her as tight as her wedding dress had) and had her Tully-red hair braided into plaits behind her head. A clear attempt to look younger, but it did nothing for the poor woman. 

"Sansa! It's so good to see you!" Her aunt Lusa exclaimed as she came over and trapped her in a hug, smile false and wide plastered onto her face. Sansa had gotten very good at reading people's emotions over the past few years, and her aunt was an open book. She may say one thing, but it was clear that her aunt was in fact very displeased to see her. 

"Good to see you too, aunt Lysa," Sansa tried to sound cheery, but it came out as nothing more than a mumble. 

"We were just discussing what to wear for your father's party in a fortnight!" Lysa ignored Sansa's less than acceptable greeting, "I'm sure you'd like to join us, us girls do love to talk about fashion," she giggled and it was one of the most ugly sounds that Sansa had ever heard. And while Sansa did enjoy talking endlessly about which dressed would fit what sort of party best with Margaery, she would rather die than discuss such things with her mother and Aunt Lysa. 

"What party?" Sansa asked, she had heard nothing of such a thing. 

"Robert Baratheon is holding a party in Ned's honour next weekend-typical of him to decide such last minute-and I was just suggesting to Lysa that we go out shopping for new dresses, it will be a very fancy party by the sounds of it." Catelyn told her daughter in regard to her question, "where's Arya by the way?" 

"She's on her way with Gendry, I walked ahead of them," Samsa informed her mother.

"I hope you weren't mean to that poor lad again, just because he isn't rich like us doesn't mean he doesn't have feelings!" Her mother scolded. 

"I beg to differ!" Lysa scoffed, "we are clearly far superior to any peasant sorts that your daughter enjoys the company of. I'm surprised you tolerate it!" 

Catelyn pursed her lips and Sansa made a quick excuse about having homework to get done before scurrying up the stairs to her room. 

She collapsed on her bed with a sigh, in the room the she was forced to share with Arya. It wasn't long before she heard the front door slam shut and Arya's laugh echo throughout the house. She heard them clamour up the stairs to the top floor. Sansa tensed up, anticipating having to face the pair that she had heavily insulted before. She breathed a sigh of relief when she head Arya crash into the adjacent room, which belonged to Jon, and Theon when he was home from uni. Not that he was really ever around during the day time when he was home, Theon liked to spend his time drinking and fucking with whatever girlfriend he had that week-as he was doing on this particular day. 

Sansa liked Jon much more than Theon. Jon worked night shifts at a night club called Castle Black, so spend most of his day sleeping whenever he'd been working. Jon wasn't one to play with women's hearts too. He had a nice girlfriend called Ygritte who he'd been dating for close to three years. They couldn't even be around Rickon without being bombarded by questions of when Jon will propose. 

Part of Sansa wished she could have a good relationship like them. Joffrey had beat her and insulted her; and she had all but given up on Loras Tyrell ever since she saw him making out with Renly Baratheon at one of his parties that she'd been invited too by Margaery. It wasn't that she didn't get male attention, she certainly did, but she found that all the boys interested in her only wanted her for sex or were just not her type. 

And now she found herself crushing on her much older, married, new uncle. Not that she'd ever admit to anyone (or even herself) that it was a crush. It was just a... Respect for the older man who treated her well-even better than some of her immediate family.

She wished that life could be like all the fairy tales that her mother had read to her as a child, with knights and princesses and a happy ending. But Joffrey had shattered any illusions of life being like that for her. With him she learned that she was no princess, and the handsome prince could actually be the horrific monster in disguise. 

She was dragged from her thoughts when someone knocked sharply on her door. Sansa bolted up and called out "come in!" 

She was surprised to see her aunt Lysa at the enter her room and walk briskly towards her, leaving the door open behind her-something that made Sansa bite back a scowl out of habit. Lysa sat down on the bed next to her and give her a sickeningly sweet smile. How did Petyr put up with her? 

"I just wanted to let you know I'm leaving, my dear. I thought I'd come and say goodbye, I doubt I'll see you until your father's party," 

"It was good to see you again aunt Lysa," she lied through her teeth, forcing a smile that she really hoped looked genuine. 

"I believe you've been getting along well with Petyr," she said 

"Oh, yes he's very kind," Sansa replied. 

"He speaks very highly of you, you know. Why? Why do you suppose that is?" 

"Well I'm half Tully, he loved... Your family." She bit her lip hoping Lysa hadn't noticed her slip up. 'He loved your sister' is what she was thinking, as she had learned from eavesdropping on Arya and Jon, who had been eavesdropping on her mother and father. 

"Loved your mother. That's what you wanted to say." Lysa corrected. Shit. She had noticed. 

"No, he- he loves you aunt Lysa, he's married to you!" 

"Your mother never loved him, never. Cat always went straight for the sweetest thing. The most obvious thing; your uncle Brandon. Your handsome, arrogant, cruel uncle Brandon. He almost killed Petyr in a fight! But your mother loved him anyway. And now, Petyr is starting to show interest in you. The daughter of a woman who never loved him! No more than those whores he owns in that club of his. Has he told you about them?" 

Whores? Club? Sansa knew nothing about that. That her uncle was like that. It confused her. But it also intrigued her deeply. "No," she stated plainly. 

"He hasn't told you about the vile thing that they let people do to their bodies, the vile things they let him do to their bodies?!" 

"No, never" Sansa felt that aunt Lysa thought that she had talked to Petyr much more than she actually had since the wedding. She had seen Petyr and Sansa close to each other at the wedding and assumed what was unfortunately the truth (at least in Sansa's case) and if her uncle really had been speaking highly of her as Lysa had said (and that thought did make Sansa's heart beat a little faster) then it would not help her in this conversation. 

Lysa reached a hand up to Sansa's hair and proceeded to run her hand through it. Sansa almost flinched at the unexpected contact. 

"You've such beautiful hair..." She sighed, "very pretty indeed,"

Sansa was surprised and confused at the sudden change of tone in Lysa's voice, especially after her previous accusations. "...thank you aunt Lys- ah!" She shouted as Lysa's soft stroking hand suddenly gripped her scalp hard, pulling her hair painfully and dragging Sansa's head close to her own. 

"I know what you are you slut," she hissed in Sansa's face, "I saw you with Petyr at my wedding, oh yes I'm not stupid. How many boys have you fucked Sansa?" 

"None! I'm a virgi-" Sansa tried to object. 

"Do you want to fuck him? My Petyr?" Lysa yelled, ignoring her. 

"What?" Sansa was shocked at they way her aunt was speaking to her, these allegations that she was making against her. "No, I told you I've never-!" 

"Would you let him do things to your body?"

"Aunt Lysa no! I-" 

"Your young pretty body?" 

"No! I'm a good Christian girl, I'm to be a virgin until marriage!" Sansa knew this was a lie, but she would do anything to get her aunt away from her in this moment. 

"Don't you lie to me, don't you lie!" She shouted, pulling her hair even harder. 

Sansa whimpered at the pain, "you're hurting me," 

"I'll know if you lie." 

"I swear what I'm saying is true, he loves you aunt Lysa! When we spoke at the wedding, he treated me like a little girl a-and he called me stupid and said I'll never learn anything in this world and everyone always says I'm a terrible liar so I should always tell the truth and I swear to you that he's not touched me or shown any indication that he wants to and he never will!" Sansa was growing frantic, the pain that her aunt was causing her was growing to be unbearable, tears pricking at her eyes. She was willing to say anything to make her aunt let her go. 

"You're a little slut Sansa Stark, and I won't allow you to corrupt and seduce my Petyr. Mine! Do you hear me? No one will get in the way of me and him. He doesn't care for you and he never will! And if I ever see you with him again I swear to all the gods I'll-" 

"Sansa?"

Lysa quickly let go of Sansa's hair and the two women turned quickly to see Jon Snow leaning in the doorway. Lysa stood up quickly and smoothed out her dress. She leaned down and patted Sansa gently on the cheek. "Think about what I said, dear." She whispered, and gave Sansa a quick peck on the cheek and escaped the room, all but shoving Jon out of the way. 

"Are you alright?" Jon asked, pacing gently towards her and awkwardly placing his arms around her. 

"I'm... Fine." She lied, "thank you Jon," 

"It's no problem," he shrugged, "I heard shouting and I wanted to see what the commotion was... She's a bit wierd, Mrs Stark's sister. I've always thought it." He paused, "...you should tell your mother. About how she treated you just now." 

"No!" Sansa said a little too quickly. 'If I tell her about it then I'll surely never be allowed near Petyr again in my life', she thought. "I just- mum's got a lot on her plate recently, I don't want to bother her. A-and, it's fine. Really. I promise Jon." 

Jon was silent for a moment. "... If you're sure. I'm sorry to leave you like this, but I don't trust Arya not to break anything in my room," 

"It's fine Jon! You go, I wouldn't leave her unattended for too long if I were you," 

Jon gave her a smile, a rarity for him, and gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder before leaving the room (and closing the door, much to Sansa's delight). 

Once she was sure that he'd left, she dived underneath her bed to pull out her laptop and jumped back onto her bed. She flipped open the lid, loaded the computer up and opened up Facebook. 

Whores, clubs and a seemingly corrupt uncle. It made Sansa curious. Wanting to get involved. Despite her aunt's warnings she did not want to leave this man alone, not at all. 

She needed to find out more. Talking to an informed person would surely help. She typed in the search box to message the one person she knew for sure had a vast knowledge of these things. Tyrion Lannister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Lysa is showing her true colours to Sansa-thoughts? I was originally going to have this scene adapted from the show later on in the fic, maybe even after the pair start getting romantically involved, but I liked it better here since I can get across the fact that Lysa is pretty much batshit insane. Since she saw the two getting friendly at the wedding and Petyr said some nice things about her (not realising that his wife is that insane) her paranoia would set in and she'd want to get the message across to Sansa as soon as possible. Plus that fact that Sansa is basically a younger, prettier Catelyn makes her very jealous. Not that Sansa's going to heed her warning, oh no.


	5. Affection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Petyr you sinful bastard

The night of Robert Baratheon's party was fast approaching. Petyr was rushed off his feet all day at work; borrowing money, hiring essential party features, helping the small council plan... It seemed as though the whole party was Petyr's responsibility, even though it should have been Robert and Ned taking charge of the whole thing. 

Thankfully it was Varys who was in charge of invites. He'd always had a way with words, whereas Petyr was often blunt and straight to the point despite being a master manipulator. Varys had successfully managed to get most of the major houses in the country to attend. Yara Greyjoy, on behalf of her father, Balon Greyjoy (which may cause some tension between her and the Starks, but nevertheless they would still be able to strike some business deals with her); Oberyn Martell to represent his brother's Dornish company, as well as his nephew Tristane (Petyr had learned that Tyrion Lannister was trying to make a couple out of Tristane and his own niece, Myrcella Lannister); some of the Freys would be attending too, although no one really knew what purpose it served to be on good terms with the Freys-they were essentially powerless aside from being a good transportation service for the big companies; the Tyrells mustn't have taken much convincing (mostly from Renly to Loras, Petyr assumed. Although if Renly would be there, then surely Loras would follow.); Stannis Baratheon agreed to attend too, much to Petyr's surprise, along with his wife, daughter, Vice President and... 'Business associate'. 

Varys had even invited Viserys Targaryen and his sister Daenerys Targaryan, although everyone very much doubted that they would attend. There was very bad blood between the Targaryens and the Baratheons and Lannisters. The Targaryen children had fled to somewhere in Western Asia after Robert Baratheon (it was actually Jamie Lannister, but Robert just took the credit) had bankrupted their father's company, which led to Aegon committing suicide, and their brother Rhaegar getting thrown into prison for life due to some exposed illegal deals and money schemes that he had pulled to help his father's company in trying times. 

Viserys was now attempting to build up his own company wherever he was, and an alliance could actually be mutually beneficial to both of their companies. 

Petyr had conversed with Sansa a lot more since he had first added her on Facebook to keep his stress levels to a minimum. He liked this girl a lot. She wasn't naïve like most girls her age, and-something that Petyr really liked about her-she was smart. Making clever jokes and observations about the things he said and the people they knew. Petyr often found himself chuckling at the banter that they would toss back and forth-she was just a delight to talk to. He found himself wanting more and more to tell her about what he really did. The deals and the blackmail and the manipulation. He wanted to show all of it to Sansa and teach her how to play the game. Despite her intelligence though, he knew she wouldn't be able to control and manipulate people like he could. She could not play the game. But she could. If she let him teach her then she could. And Petyr wanted nothing more than to teach her. 

He thought back to the conversation he'd had with Lysa a few nights back. It was late at night after he'd spent a long day at work and he was finishing up that days tasks in his home office. Robin was in bed and Petyr was just finishing up his work for the night. Lysa had come in a few minutes prior, babbling on about some nonsense that Petyr wasn't paying attention to; giving an occasional grunt or head nod to signify that he was listening-much like he had done to Robin a few days back. He would have shooed her out if she hadn't said something that caught his attention.

"...Oh, and you don't have to worry about that Stark bitch anymore, I had firm words with her the other day," 

Petyr was confused. He didn't know what she meant. He didn't have to worry about 'that Stark bitch'? 

"I'm sorry Lysa I'm not sure I follow," he told her. 

"Sansa, Petyr! I know she's been bothering you. Trying to... Seduce you," 

Petyr kept his poker face but was shocked at what his wife was saying. Her? Seduce him? If she knew the way he thought about her then Lysa would definitely think of it the other way round. Or perhaps not because she was completely infatuated with him and believed he could do no wrong

"I think that you're mistaken Lysa, she has done no such thing. I do hope you didn't frighten the poor girl," he said calmly. It was the wrong thing to say. 

"Frighten her?" Lysa shrieked, "I hope I bloody well did frighten her, she deserves it, the little whore! I won't have her anywhere near you ever again Petyr do you understand? You're mine," 

"Of course I am yours, my sweet wife," he lied, "I assure you I have no interest the Stark girl, only you. Now, why don't you get yourself up to bed and I'll be with you as soon as I finish up my work, hm?" 

Lysa still looked angry, but nevertheless left the room. 

Petyr picked up his phone, and without even thinking, called Sansa Stark. 

The phone rang a few times but she picked up the call after a short while. 

"Hello?" The sweet voice on the other end asked. She sounded confused and tired. Petyr looked at the time on his computer and noticed it was eleven o'clock, the younger girl had probably been asleep in order to get up early for college, before he had so rudely interrupted. She'd probably picked up the phone without even checking who was calling first. 

"I'm sorry for calling you at this hour, sweetling," he said into the phone,

"Oh! Uncle Petyr!" She said, seeming very happy about the fact that it was him calling her. He could hear the grin in her voice, and he couldn't help but grin too, knowing that he was a the cause of it. She'd also got into a habit of calling him 'uncle', which surprisingly pleased him greatly. Whenever any of his other new nieces and nephews said it (for example, Rickon, who greeted him as such whenever he was forced to pick Robin up from school) it made him feel like an old man. However when Sansa said it... Well that was a completely different story. Petyr assumed that Ned had encouraged his children to call him such, as Catelyn wasn't overly fond of him at the moment and although Ned wasn't his biggest fan, he was an honourable man who was willing to welcome Petyr into the family and would ensure that his children do the same. 

"I just wanted to check that you're alright. My wife just told me that she had stern words with you a few days ago. I hope she didn't offend you." Petyr heard the venom in his voice when he'd said 'my wife' and actually found himself hoping that she would hear it too. He didn't want her to think that he actually loved her, or even like her for that matter. 

"Oh, that..." She mumbled, "I'm fine I suppose. She stopped when my brother Jon came to check on me after he heard yelling. 

"What did she say to you?" He asked, hoping that Lysa hadn't told her anything about the real him. She wasn't ready for that, he felt. Not yet. 

"Just that I'm a whore and a slut and a temptress; and she went on some spiel about my mother as well. It happened very fast I didn't really take in what she was saying, I was just focusing on getting her off me," she laughed lightly, playing it off like she was fine. But something in her tone bothered him. 

"...you don't mean she hurt you, do you Sansa?" 

Silence. 

"Sansa," he repeated firmly, but then a little softer: "it's alright, you can tell me." 

"I... I don't want to cause any trouble," she finally got out.

"You won't, sweet girl, I promise you," he reassured her. 

"She pulled on my hair, b-but that was it!" 

Petyr felt sorry for the girl. She really didn't want to get her aunt into trouble even though the woman had obviously shaken her. A trait she'd have to get rid of. 

"I'm sorry she did that to you. I do hope she didn't hurt you too badly. I have told her to leave you alone, so she shouldn't be bothering you again." 

"Thank you," she said quietly. 

Petyr was glad that her aunt's words hadn't sat too well with her, as she had continued to speak to Petyr many times over the few days since the incident. He praised the gods that his hateful wife hadn't driven off this beautiful young girl. 

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone and her soft breathing was just audible in his ear. Petyr wondered if she had fallen back asleep. 

"Are you asleep?" He asked softly, as not to wake her if she was. 

"No," she giggled softly, "you don't bore me that easily," 

"But you're implying that I still do bore you? That's no way to be speaking to your uncle Sansa," he teased.

She giggled again, "hardly. I actually very much enjoy our conversations,"

He heard her stifle a yawn and wondered if he should let her get back to bed. He ultimately decided against it, as he rather enjoyed speaking to his niece. 

"I'm glad sweetling. I enjoy our conversations too," 

"I'll be happy to see you again Petyr, I take it you are going to Robert Baratheon's party?" 

"Well I do work for the man, it would be rude for me not to turn up, don't you agree?" 

"Oh yes of course, but from what I know of you you're a very smart man with a distaste for such parties that can always get his own way. You could easily get out of it if you wanted." 

She was completely right. 

"Yes I suppose I could. I have done it on many occasions, I could do it again this time, if I really wanted," 

"Don't." She told him firmly. "For me," 

He wasn't planning on a no-show if that lovely creature would be there. And even if he was, he could hardly deny her now. With sleep laced into her silky voice, soft and quiet in the nighttime; every word that she whispered into his ear causing his body to heat up and wanting to give everything to have this girl. He was never going to be able to deny her. 

"I wouldn't dream of it sweetling. Not when I have the opportunity to see you again," 

He could tell that she was about to respond, when a voiced on the other side of the call mumbled: "Sansa, shut the fuck up!" 

She sighed. "Arya," Sansa gave as an explanation. 

Petyr chuckled. "I shouldn't keep two young girls up on a weeknight. Get some rest Sansa," 

"Goodnight Petyr," she all but sighed. 

"Goodnight, lovely girl," and he hung up. 

 

As he was fondly thinking back on their late night phone call, Petyr silently cursed himself for outright flirting with her. He knew he needed to be more subtle, but oh this girl was too perfect. Sure, she had Catelyn Stark as a mother and Petyr had loved her dearly as a boy, but Sansa was so much more than her mother. Smarter, wittier, and of course ever so gorgeous. She was just like her. But not like her at all. And this made Petyr desire her immensely. 

Sadly, Petyr did not have the time to speak with her on this particular day, as the pressing matter of organising the Baratheon/Stark party was taking priority. He had rushed home from work, deciding to do most of his work at his home office as Eddard Stark had decided to be a particular pain in the arse. Calling: "Petyr do this," "what do you mean that's outside the budget it's your job to make it fit the budget!" "I need you to do these errands and I don't care that you're busy," and-Petyr's personal favourite-"I don't trust you to plan this party," 

"Then plan it yourself! It's your party after all!" Petyr had almost screamed back. But he didn't. He had remained his composure no matter how much Ned made him want to tear his hair out. He needed to stay on Ned's good side, and the only way to do this on this day was to leave the office so he didn't end up stabbing the man out of frustration. 

Petyr almost jumped out of his skin when he entered his home to find the youngest Stark girl lounging on his couch lazily, watching an infuriated Robin trying (and failing) to build a Lego tower. 

When she heard the door open she whipped around, seeming to expect an intruder, but when she saw it was only him, she relaxed. Greeting him with a nonchalant: "hey, Mr Baelish," the girl turned back around to face the TV which was showing some sort of cartoon show, that seemed to be more Arya's type than Robin's, even though Petyr felt as though she was far too old for cartoons. Petyr also got the impression that even if her father insisted, she would never call him 'uncle'. 

It appeared that Lysa had gone out somewhere and made last minute babysitting plans with the unlucky Stark girl. At least it seemed that Robin hadn't done anything too drastic yet. 

"What are you watching?" Petyr asked, making polite conversation. 

"It's called Adventure Time. Come watch a bit with us, it's good." Arya patted the space next to her on the couch. 

Petyr slowly padded over to the couch and stiffly sat down next to the fifteen year old girl. He noticed that she had also helped herself to some of the food in his cupboards, as empty biscuit wrappers lounged with her on his pristine white furniture, and she took a huge and loud bite out of an apple the she was gripping in her hand. Not that he minded that she'd eaten his food (it was all bought by Lysa for Robin anyway, and he was far too fussy and wouldn't eat anything) it just amused him how different she was from her sister. Pristine Sansa would never have even dared to do so much as walk around in shoes in his house, but here was the boisterous Arya, mucky trainers kicked up on a footrest, with what she wanted on the telly, and helping herself to his food. Petyr wondered how on earth these polar opposites shared a house together, let alone a room. 

"I don't like it!" Whined Robin, in reference to the television show, "it's boring, I want Transformers on!" 

"Robin, Arya is our guest. Let her out what she wants on telly," Petyr addressed him calmly. He nearly laughed out loud at the smug smirk Arya directed towards the little boy. It seemed as though the two would make a perfect team for putting the little Lord in his place. 

The two of them sat in awkward silence as Robin mumbled to himself angrily, and the television hummed in the background. Petyr didn't really understand the show; it was strange and had non-sensical plot lines, but he could see how a young girl like Arya would enjoy it, and so didn't voice his displeasure. 

When the show finished, Petyr shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not knowing what to say. 

Luckily for him, Arya Stark spoke first, "so, what did you think?" 

"It was... Interesting," he gave, not knowing how to describe the show without lying to the girl or telling her the truth. 

The pair paid no mind to the smaller boy as he stomped off in a strop, sulking about not being able to build the tower and also being ignored by his cousin and step-father. 

"I can tell you didn't like it," she laughed, and before he could respond added, "you know, Sansa loves this show too. But she won't admit it. There's a lot of things that Sansa likes but she won't admit," 

The young girl had a secretive smirk on her face that made Petyr feel a little uncomfortable. "What do you mean?" He asked. 

"Oh it's nothing, don't mind me," she gave him a grin and it made him determined to find out what she wasn't telling him. 

"Tell me Arya, what do you mean?" 

"If I tell you, what's in it for me?" She retorted. 

Petyr rummaged around in his inside blazer pocket and held a five pound note in front of her face. She raised her eyebrow, as if asking 'is that all?' He pulled out another, and when she still kept silent he pulled out another and another, until there was twenty pounds in front of her face. 

Eventually, she slowly said, "why are you taking such an interest in my sister?" 

"Why not?" He replied quickly. 

"That's not an answer." She said firmly, "tell me, and I'll tell you what I know," 

He studied the girl carefully and could tell that she wasn't going to give up. She was just as stubborn as he was, perhaps even more. 

"If I tell you... You don't get any money," 

Arya shrugged, "fine by me. When you're already from a rich family the next important think to money is knowledge." 

Oh she was smart. Perhaps it ran in the family, or at least in the females. Arya and Sansa both seemed much smarter than their father and brothers. 

"... I have taken an... Interest, in your sister," he said carefully. 

"Well duh no shit. I want to know why. Tell me Petyr, I'm not stupid I know you didn't marry my aunt Lysa for love, neither did uncle Jon for that matter. I also know that you used to love my mother. Now, years later my mother has a beautiful young daughter who I bet looks just like she used to, and her childhood admirer just so happens to take an interest in said daughter. Why would that be Petyr?" 

Fuck. This girl wasn't just smart and observant, she had a big gob as well. She seemed to have no inhibitions about what she was saying and clearly wasn't aware of the consequences that would occur if she gave the right information to the wrong people. This girl could prove to be very dangerous. 

"So, you've already guessed it I suppose. Now that you know tell-" 

"You're not getting my info that easily. I want to hear it from you." 

"Arya-" 

"Tell me why you've taken an interest in my sister. Then I'll talk." 

They stared at each other for a long time before he gave in to her wishes. But he was going to have to lie to her. He couldn't have her knowing the truth, being Sansa's sister and all. Plus she was only fifteen. She wouldn't be able to detect his lies. Even Varys found it hard to detect his lies. He was a master at it. 

"Your sister is very smart you know, I've taken an interest of her because of her intelligence. She could prove to be an excellent assistant to me."

Arya laughed at him. "Don't give me that bullshit. I can tell that you're attracted to her. Besides, what makes you think that she'll want to be an accountants assistant?" 

"I didn't mean that she would be an assistant to my accounting."

The younger girl glared at him. "I don't know what you mean but I know that you're not who everyone thinks that you are. I think that you could be a dangerous man Petyr" 

"Dangerous or not I believe we had a bargain." 

Arya looked angry, but as a child raised by Ned Stark, couldn't break her promise. 

"Sansa seems to have taken an interest in you, too. That day when you added her on Facebook, she was in a café with Margaery Tyrell. I was sat on a table next to them with my bo- um, friend. Anyway, I couldn't hear too well but Margaery was teasing her and Sansa was getting really flustered. She panicked when Maragery sent you a message from her phone because she didn't want you to think she was forwardly flirting with you. I teased her about it later on that day but she said that she's just 'curious about you', but I'm not convinced. That's all I know. Now if you'll excuse me, I want to get back to watching my programme." 

Arya turned back to the television as to view the cartoon that had long since come back on. 

Petyr stood and walked down his office silently, not sure what to do with this new information. Did Sansa really feel something more than curiosity towards her new uncle? He doubted that Arya was lying, he'd be able to tell if she was, but perhaps she was just misinterpreting things? It was something he'd have to put to the test. Not over text, but the next time he saw her in person. That way it would be more effective. He wouldn't be able to flirt with her at Robert Baratheon's party of course. With hundreds of people there, he could hardly be seen flirting with a seventeen year old girl who just so happened to be his new niece. However, a perfect opportunity was just around the corner. Eighteen year old Margaery Tyrell had hired out Petyr's club, The Silver Mockingbird, for her annual Christmas party, a week after the Baratheon party. Petyr knew that Margaery and Sansa were very good friends, so she would surely be at the Tyrell girl's Christmas party. In a room filled with intoxicated teenagers, who didn't care about the reputation of Petyr (and wouldn't care about Sansa either as soon as they were drunk or high enough) it would be easy for him to try and seduce his niece. Yes, he knew exactly when to strike. 

Petyr buried himself in his work once into the office, trying (and failing) to rid his thoughts of the red-haired beauty who he would have the absolute pleasure of seeing again in a few days time. He was going to enjoy Robert's party much more than he had originally thought. 

Try as he might he just could not seem to focus on his work. Numbers were just unreadable swirls on the computer screen as he just could not make sense of it, or do any of the calculations that were required of him. He needed to get Sansa out of his mind if he was going to get this work done. 

He opened up Facebook and typed in her name, almost ashamed at himself for what he was about to do. He clicked on a picture of her in the dress she was wearing at his wedding. God she looked so beautiful. The dress showed of her marvellously long legs, emphasised by the heels she was wearing, her long hair in gorgeous curls that had swayed elegantly on that day, as radiant as the sun itself. For Petyr, she was the absolute picture of perfection. He swallowed as he slowly undid his work slacks and slid his hand down. He exhaled slightly as he felt the contact between his hand and his dick and focused on the picture of Sansa as he- 

There was a knock on the front door. 

Petyr cursed under his breath as he closed the Facebook tab on his computer and did up his pants. 

He walked briskly up the stairs to reach the front door, his feet heavy with annoyance. When he reached the door (with Arya, who had followed behind him from the living room) he practically flung it open after unlocking it, only to be slightly embarrassed at his clear annoyance after he saw who was standing at the door. It was Cat. 

"Cat! It's good to see you again," he stood back from the door and let the woman enter his home. "Apologies if I looked a little... Annoyed. I've been trying to get some important work done you see, and I thought you were... Someone else." 

He had thought that it was Lysa, forgetting her keys again, the stupid woman, and he had been pulled from his 'work' to have to let her in. 

"It's quite alright Petyr." Catelyn said, with no emotion in her voice, "I'm here to pick Arya up, I trust she was well behaved?" 

"Oh yes, she handled Robin extremely well," Petyr lied. In truth neither Arya or himself even knew where the small boy was. Probably still in his room sulking. "Would you, um, like a cup of tea?" Petyr offered awkwardly. He honestly didn't want her in his house longer than she had to be, he didn't feel bad, just more embarrassed that he was beginning to lust after this woman's daughter, especially considering what she herself had used to be to Petyr. However, he knew he had to be polite, he didn't want her to think anything was amiss between them, even though there was unresolved tension without the added problem of Sansa. 

"No, thank you." She declined politely, "...I would like to speak with you, though." 

"Of course, Cat," he already anticipated what this talk would be about, and he had been expecting it ever since his wedding day. 

Catelyn and Petyr both looked at Arya, knowing that she shouldn't be here for this conversation. 

"Arya, go down to the car, I'll be out in a moment," Catelyn instructed. 

Arya nodded and made for the door. 

"Arya," Petyr's voice made her stop in her tracks. She turned to face him and he pressed the twenty pounds from earlier into her hand. 

"Thank you," he told her, and they both knew it wasn't for babysitting Robin. 

She grinned at him in thanks, and hurried out of the house and down to her mother's car. 

When Petyr turned back to face Catelyn he saw that she looked slightly displeased. 

"What can I do for you, Cat?" He asked, almost innocently. He hadn't even done anything. Yet. 

"I've known you since we were children Petyr. I know what kind of person you are, and I know what you do. You're not a good man Petyr Baelish. You're not the boy I used to know. And I want you to stay away from my girls." 

It was exactly what he was expecting. And he was going to have to lie to his childhood love, as he was not planning on staying away from her beautiful daughter. 

"Do you really think I'd stoop so low as to take advantage of underage girls? You should know I'd never do anything to your daughters Catelyn," 

It was only a half lie, he wasn't planning on taking advantage of Sansa per se, he wanted to invite the young girl into his bed willingly. 

"It's not Arya I'm worried about admittedly..." 

"You think I want Sansa because she looks like you? No offence Catelyn but that's a little shallow don't you think? I've moved on from you." 

"And yet you married my sister." 

Petyr forced himself not to scowl. He couldn't respond to that and she knew it. Cat knew he didn't love Lysa and he couldn't voice this without giving a reason to why he was married to her. There may be friction between Cat and Lysa, but they were still sisters, and Cat would surely tell her of anything Petyr said about her. 

"...Your sister is not you." He settled for. 

"And neither is Sansa," 

"Catelyn," he sighed, "listen to me, I swear to you I'd never take advantage of her. You must trust me Cat, like you said you've known me for years, you know you can trust my word." 

"But I can't. I don't trust you Petyr. I don't know if you're lying or not now, but even if you aren't I don't trust you not to want her in the future. Sansa is young and naïve and won't be able to protect herself if you decide that you want her. Petyr, if you have any affection for me left in your heart, then please I beg of you, leave my girls alone. Don't talk to them, don't go near them, don't even look at them. I will not have you corrupting them. Either of them." 

And with that Catelyn left his house before he could say another word. He watched her drive off as he stood in the doorway, contemplating her words. Eventually he whispered to himself: 

"But I have no affection left for you, Catelyn Stark."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Stark girls are on to you Petyr!   
> So the next chapter is going to be the Baratheon party and we're gonna get to meet characters in a lot more detail there which I'm excited to write. Also I'm going to change the name of the fic before the next chapter just so you know.  
> As always, thanks for reading!


	6. She's A Hateful Woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in less than a week? I'm rather proud of myself. So this chapter is waaaay too fucking long to have as one big one so here's about half of it! And the other half should be up by Sunday!

Gold and Crimson invaded the eyesight of the Stark family as the entered the grand ballroom. Even Theon and Jon were allowed to attend this event. Jon had even been allowed to bring Ygritte along. She looked quite lovely, Sansa thought, with her hair curled, makeup done and donning a silky green dress borrowed from Sansa. Ygritte was from a very poor northern family, the type that were often called 'wildlings', but had won a scholarship into a London University of Psychology hoping to lead a different life to her parents. Despite her success in this, she still had barely a penny to her name, even with working at a coffee shop part time, so Sansa had been willing to help the girl out in looking appropriate for a Baratheon ball. 

Sansa herself was wearing a long light pink dress, with a low back and off the shoulder sleeves. Her parents had frowned at her when she had walked down the stairs wearing it, but Sansa glared back, refusing to change again. She knew that Margaery liked to wear dresses like this, and Sansa did not want to be forever known as a prude like her mother. She wanted to be bold, like the Tyrell women were. She was sick of being the good little Christian girl that her parents expected her to be. 

The ballroom was huge. Hundreds of people had gathered for a party in honour of her father, and Sansa couldn't help but feel her heart swell with pride. The family were shown to their table by a young serving boy, and they sat quietly. None of them had spoken all night and it was past the point of being just a little awkward. Their table was next to a family that Sansa didn't recognise. The head of their house looked to be the man with thinning hair and a scowl on his face, but Sansa was only guessing. He was sat next to a woman with hair so Crimson it matched the Lannister banners draped from the ceiling. Also sat at the table was a balding man with a beard and a kind face, a spindly, mousey-haired woman who seemed to be fawning over the red woman, and a little girl, perhaps a few years younger than Arya, with a terrible looking scar down one side of her face. It took a lot for Sansa to stop staring in both horror and fascination. The mousey-haired lady (who Sansa assumed was her mother) seemed to be scolding the little girl. Sansa overheard something about how she should have worn her hair down, but the scarred girl held her head high, not afraid to have her hair scraped up in a bun, almost proud of a mark that any other person would hate. Sansa was finding herself admiring this young girl without even knowing her. 

Sansa tore her eyes away from the odd bunch of people occupying the next table and scanned the room to find either Tyrion or Petyr. Two men that she needed to speak with tonight. When her aunt had told her of her uncles alleged corruption, Sansa had desired to find out more. She had messaged the one person she knew had a vast knowledge of whores, clubs and corruption-one, Tyrion Lannister. 

She'd messaged him, asking if he knew anything about the true dealings of her new uncle, Petyr Baelish. About his clubs, his drugs, his prostitutes. Tyrion's response was almost immediate. 'I need you to delete that message and this one I've just sent to you. At Robert Baratheon's party I promise I'll tell you everything I know about your new uncle. But it would not do either of us any good for the wrong person to find messages about what he does between us. I'll speak to you soon.' 

Sansa had done as he had asked and was itching to find out the truth. 

After a long period of looking around (Tyrion was a small man, so not exactly easy to find in a crowd) she saw him standing on the ballroom floor talking to his much taller and much more handsome brother Jamie, next to the Lannister's table, where Joffrey was currently screaming at his mother, who was already on her third glass of wine. Sansa was about to get up to steal the dwarf away for a few moments, when Robert Baratheon stood at the top of the room and tapped on a microphone, drawing everyone's attention. 

"Good evening everybody," he addressed the crowd. He was holding cue card in his fumbling hands, a telltale sign that he was clearly nervous and not used to giving speeches. "I welcome you all to this party, in honour of my new Vice President, Eddard Stark," 

The room gave a polite clap, as Robert extended his arm out towards Sansa's father, and beckoned him to come and join him. She could feel the terror in her father as he tensed up, but kept a solid face. He reluctantly rose from his chair and walked towards Robert, who clapped the other man on the back as he stood by his side. 

"Ned's been there for me for years. He's like a brother to me. We could have been brothers actually, I was engaged to his sister before tragedy befell her..." Sansa saw Cersei scowl and she could have laughed at how pathetic this woman was; jealous of a long dead woman. 

"And I wanted to show Ned how much he means to me. How much I trust him. And I did that by making him my right hand man." 

Sansa could see her father getting uncomfortable, wanting it to be over already. Eddard was not a man who liked to be in the limelight. 

"I wish that things could have been different, that our houses could have been joined in some way," Sansa could feel things getting a little too personal now, like a private conversation between the two men, not a speech in front of hundreds. "It's a shame things didn't work out between our kids, they would have made a great match." 

Sansa's face burned the same colour as the red lady's hair as she wished to be anywhere else in this moment of time. She sunk into her chair, hoping to avoid Joffrey's glare that she could feel crawling on her skin, like a disgusting insect. 

"But enough about past failures! Here's to our future successes! Eddard Stark, I'm proud to call you my hand and best friend, let's make this company great again!" 

The crowd clapped politely again and Ned made to move back to his seat, but Robert's hand on his shoulder kept him in place. 

"How about a few words Ned?" The company president asked. 

Her father looked mortified. "No, Robert I think that's-" 

But the mic was thrust upon him and he was left facing the crowd with a scared look on his face. 

"G-good evening everyone. I'd like to thank you all for coming, and Robert for giving me this astounding opportunity, and organising this wonderful party for me," 

Keeping his speech short and sweet, Ned quickly threw the microphone back towards Robert and all but ran back to his seat. The light buzz of chatter in the hall returned as both men returned to their tabled. 

Ned slumped down in his seat and put his head in his hands. "God I must've looked like a right prat up there," he groaned. 

Catelyn put her hand on his back and rubbed it reassuringly. "No, darling you did wonderfully," she soothed, knowing how much her husband hated being in front of large crowds. 

"Mother," Catelyn's head snapped towards Sansa in surprise when she spoke, as she was the first Stark child to speak that night, "I'm going to go and speak with some people, introduce myself. Is that alright?" 

"Of course dear!" 

Catelyn was always very supportive of Sansa mingling at parties, not wanting her eldest daughter to be as reclusive as her younger one. 

Sansa practically shot out of her chair and made a beeline straight for Tyrion Lannister. 

She wove in between the crowds of people who were just beginning to file into the dance floor, as light jazz music began to play from a band in the corner of the room. Mumbling apologies for bumping into people, she slowly but surely made her way to the Lannister's table. She didn't want to be there any longer than she had to (Cersei and Joffrey had already started glaring at her when she began her journey to them) but she needed to speak to the imp. 

He noticed her before she even approached him. 

"Miss Sansa!" He greeted, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. "You'll have to forgive me Jamie" he said to his older brother, with whom he was previously conversing with, "but a beautiful lady wishes to speak with me," 

Jamie didn't ask how Tyrion knew that Sansa was here for him, but instead nodded at his brother as she allowed the dwarf to lead her gently by the arm to the banquet. 

"No one eats before nine pm at a ball, it's just bad manners," Tyrion explained, "so have no fear that someone may overhear us talking."

Sansa nodded her head at him. 

"So: what do you want to know?" Tyrion asked. 

Sansa paused. What did she want to know about her uncle? Specifically?

"Everything," she ended up blurting out. 

Tyrion laughed at that, "ah, don't we all my sweet. But I suppose I can tell you all I know in regards to your new uncle. I suppose his path of corruption started when he was a young boy, still in love with your mother. She was betrothed to your uncle Brandon, which of course upset young Petyr, so what did the young lovesick lad decide to do? Challenge older, stronger, richer Brandon Stark to a fight for her hand in marriage. Now as most know it didn't end well for the boy. He was slashed across the chest by Brandon's knife, and shot in the shoulder by one of Brandon's henchmen. He was in hospital for months recovering, and while he was in there Brandon died. Murdered. Poison they say. They never found who did it but I bet Petyr had a hand in it," 

"How could he have? If he was in hospital the whole time?" Sansa interjected. 

"I don't know. Perhaps he convinced someone. Or maybe they just did it on his behalf. Anyway, as you can imagine this probably messed him up a bit. Hoster Tully forbade Petyr from seeing Catelyn ever again and banished him from the household that he was fostered into. No one heard much from Petyr for quite some time after that, but he was slowly creeping his way up the social ladder. Serving rich and powerful families like the Lannister's, and was rewarded with money. He got a job at Robert Baratheon's company, starting off small but gaining more and more power and control as he proved to Robert how useful he could be. But that wasn't his true work, no..." Tyrion looked at her, "I'm about to get to the good bit. The bit you want to hear, probably. But I must ask, are you sure you want to hear this?" 

Sansa frowned at him. "I'm not a fragile little girl, Mr Lannister. I know what I want to hear and I will hear it." 

"You're a strong spirited girl, I admire that," Tyrion stated. "Alright then. Your new uncle is... Well, he owns a club called The Silver Mockingbird," 

'That would explain his ever-present pin,' Sansa thought. 

"It's the most popular club in London," Tyrion continued, "it's got the best alcohol, the best DJ, the best everything! It has a classier air to it than most bog-standard nightclubs that the youth of today like to go to. Only the elite get on the guest list whenever they please, and all the others have to wait outside in the queue for hours to get in. You can get anything there, no questions asked. Providing you have the money of course. Petyr has the best drug dealers in the country, they say. I hear he imports most of his stuff from Dorne! There's been all sorts of overdoses and drug related incidents at that place, but Baelish has blackmail on so many of the local police officers that he's practically untouchable." 

Tyrion studied the girl's face to see how she was taking in this information. She looked a little shocked, but she knew that this information was nothing compared to what else she knew her uncle did. 

"Do you want me to continue?" He asked carefully. 

"I know what's coming next. Tell me." 

He couldn't deny her definitive answer. 

"But that's just the first floor of the club. On the second floor, well it's even harder to get up there. And I know personally. The second floor hosts a... Brothel of sorts. Not only does it act as a means of income for Petyr, but it also gives him everything he needs to manipulate the most powerful of people. Forgive me for assuming Sansa, but I take it you're a virgin?" 

She nodded in agreement, confused as to why he would ask that. 

"I though as much. You see Sansa, after sex people tend to get sentimental. Their brain doesn't filter what they're saying and they end up spilling secrets, and may not even have any memories of it after. Petyr pays his whores to pretend to love their clients, and they do a good job." 

"Speaking from first hand experience?" Sansa teased. 

"Yes." Tyrion grimaced, and she regretted bringing up something that may have hurt his feelings. "But that's besides the point. Petyr has good whores, most of whom are viscously loyal to him. Baelish saved many of his girls from very bad situations, some of them just lust after him desperately. My point is most of them don't dare lie to him. But if they do, he knows. Petyr has cameras and microphones in every room for his blackmail, and I hear he gives harsh punishments to his whores that disobey him. See, it's not just about what the clients say, it's about who they fuck. Your uncle caters to all tastes. Teenagers, children, I know for a fact he's given out animals. In fact, remember that politician that was exposed for fucking a pig? It took in Petyr's brothel. I've also heard rumours that... I should stop. Sansa I'm sorry. Forgive me for getting carried away." 

"Tell. Me." She demanded. She was too far in now. She wanted to know everything. 

"You're sure?" Tyrion asked, hesitantly. 

"Certain." 

"...I've heard rumours that, for the right price, Baelish has provided corpses for his clients use. Fresh corpses." 

Sansa could feel herself shake as she processed this information. It seemed as though Tyrion was describing a completely different person to the man she knew. But she knew that it must be true. She knew he had a dark side and she despised that she loved that. 

Something caught Tyrion's eye across the room and he quickly bid farewell to Sansa.

"I hope the information I gave you was satisfactory miss Stark, I'm afraid I must leave you. I hope you have a wonderful evening." 

And with a small bow the imp was gone. 

Sansa stood, alone at the banquet table, Tyrion's voice echoing in her mind. 'Petyr Baelish is a dangerous man,' she told herself. 'Stay away from him.' But as much as she thought this, her body was telling her otherwise. She was actually getting aroused from hearing all of these things about her corrupt uncle and she fucking hated herself for it. This man was bad news but oh, she loved it. 

 

\----------

 

'The night is young,' Petyr had told his wife, desperate to get out of dancing with her. 'We'll have plenty of time to dance later.' But Lysa was having none of it. The feeling of her hands roaming his skin made him want to retch. His own hands were stiff on her waist, barely touching her. There was only one woman he wanted to dance with tonight, and she sadly hadn't even noticed him yet. 

It took Petyr a lot of effort not to stare when she had walked into the ballroom. She looked ever so elegant and gorgeous with her hair done up in a graceful bun, and wearing that tantalising pink dress. He wanted to go over and tell her how beautiful she looked, but he reckoned that was not a wise idea. With Lysa mad at Sansa and Catelyn mad at him, it would not do him any good to have two angry Tully women on his case. 

There was only one thing these parties were good for: more blackmail material. 

Petyr had placed recording devices in multiple places in the venue before any one else had arrived, and he was intending on putting them to good use. 

Petyr and Lysa weren't the only couple on the floor in that moment. Even though the party had only started about an hour ago, many had already taken to the dance floor. Petyr was straining his ears, to listen out for anything interesting that he could use to his advantage. God knows that Petyr could not take a whole evening listening to Lysa's non sensical rambling. 

A certain voice was heard by Petyr and he spun himself and Lysa one-hundred and eighty degrees so he could see who was speaking. 

"...Don't you worry about my hands," the voice said, as its owner reached up the fabric of a woman's dress to grab her breast. Petyr nearly choked at what he was seeing. Theon Greyjoy, fondling his older sister. Sure, the man hadn't seen his sister for ten years, but surely one would remember his own flesh and blood. 

"We'll knock something or someone over if you keep distracting me like that," Yara told him. Petyr saw the look in her eyes and knew that she knew exactly who she was talking to. She was playing Theon for a fool, evaluating what kind of a man he was. 'Perhaps there was finally a smart Greyjoy born' Petyr thought to himself as he watched the siblings dance. 

"I have a proposal for my father-Robb Stark said there will be a Greyjoy here tonight-one that will make him great again, and me after him. You may get to stay in a penthouse suite tonight if you're lucky," 

God, this idiot really didn't know who he was talking to, did he? He was just assuming that Yara was some middle-class girl who'd somehow scored an invite to the Baratheon party through family who worked lower down for the man. 

"Is that an offer from the future head of house Greyjoy?" 

"An order, from the future head of house Greyjoy," 

Petyr's eyes widened as the young man put his hands up his sisters short skirt. 

"You can tell your grandchildren about this night," Theon continued

"I don't imagine it'll be a story fit for children," 

The two danced off and Petyr almost wanted to vomit at the unintentional incestuous exchange that he had just heard. 

"Petyr! Are you even listening to me?" Lysa shrieked, drawing a few stares. 

"Of course I was, my dear," Petyr forced himself to smile at the repulsive woman. 

"Then answer my question!" 

Fuck. He didn't know she'd asked a question. 

"Yes?" 

Lysa looked furious. It clearly wasn't a yes or no question and she stormed off, leaving Petyr on his own (which he was actually rather thankful for). 

He noticed Varys standing by himself near the mostly empty Baratheon table, and decided to go and join him. 

"Good evening Mr Baelish," Varys greeted as Petyr approached. 

"Varys," he nodded at the bald man. 

"You've organised this party very well Baelish, I believe I should congratulate you." 

"I'm glad someone noticed my hard work," Petyr stated bitterly. 

"Yes, it does appear that people only seem to be crediting Robert and Eddard. Although I suppose all that matters is that you didn't horrendously fuck it up. I'm sure you'd get all the credit then," 

The two men chuckled lightly. 

"I think I prefer staying as an unnoticed man with a lot of power. It's easier to sneak around that way," Petyr told him. 

"I thoroughly agree, my friend. I also couldn't help but notice that you've set up cameras and microphones around the ballroom. Smart idea. I've invited a few of my little birds here as well to find out our humble guests' secrets," 

It was as though a spell had been lifted, as Petyr only just noticed the handful of young boys and girls dressed in silks that he knew only Varys had a taste for, milling about gently in the crowd of wealth men and women. 

"I'm sure you'll get some interesting information on Theon and Yara Greyjoy from them." 

"Oh yes I saw, nasty dealings. Although I suspect Miss Greyjoy is leading her brother on in order to report to her father what kind of man young Theon has become."

"I think that's the case too. I saw it in her eyes." 

"Got up close to them did you? I'm not surprised really, you're having your own experience with incest at the moment, aren't you?" 

"I beg your pardon?" Petyr snapped. 

"Well I suppose it's not incest by blood, but I know just what you think about your new niece." 

"That's none of your business," 

Petyr respected Varys enough for what he did, but it was times like this when Varys delved too deep into Petyr's personal life, that he really started to make Petyr want to stab him. 

"So you don't deny it? That you've been attempting to seduce your niece? Your underage niece might I add." 

Petyr did nothing but scowl at the man. 

"Everyone knows you loved Catelyn Stark, Baelish, but to want to bed her daughter? That's a new low even for you." 

Petyr laughed bitterly. "Being attracted to a beautiful girl is hardly the lowest I've gone. I've done some pretty fucked up shit in the past month alone," 

"You sound proud of yourself, Mr Baelish," 

"Perhaps I am," 

"Yes, perhaps you are, I wouldn't put it past you to take pride in your pimping, drug dealing and blackmailing. How's your new wife by the way?" 

"Despicable. As always." 

"Wanting your dear Catelyn's daughter and marrying her sister, I don't mean to offend Mr Baelish but it's not exactly far fetched to assume that one still holds some affection for her," 

"I am using Lysa for her ex-husband's information and money, you know that very well," Petyr hissed. 

"And Sansa?" 

"Sansa is not her mother." Petyr echoed the words of Catelyn Stark, "I don't want her in my bed because of her Tully blood, but because she is intelligent, witty, beautiful and overall useful to me." 

"And if she doesn't want you?" 

"I always get what I want." 

And it was true. Petyr did always get what he wanted and there was no denying that. He would burn the whole world down if he could be king of the ashes, but even though there were many things that Petyr Baelish was, he was not a rapist. He wouldn't do that to the poor girl. But he would heavily seduce her in order to attempt to bed the girl. He had already started, and he hoped that it was already working. The girl hadn't shied away from him yet, she was always ever so eager to speak with him. Petyr figured it would be too long before he could pounce and fuck the young girl senseless and have her screaming his name like a prayer. 

"Be careful Baelish," Varys sighed, "fucking your niece could get you into a lot of trouble. Not just with the police-you have enough funds to escape prison for fucking a minor-but with the Tully women. If any of Sansa's siblings find out they'll tell your Catelyn. If Catelyn finds out then she'll go straight to her sister. If Lysa finds out... You'll never get those Arryn accounts and your farce of a marriage will be all for naught." 

"It's a curious thing, how Cat stands up for Lysa so fiercely when Lysa makes her hatred for Cat so apparent." 

"Catelyn has a heart. Lysa does not. Lysa may think that she loves you but I can see it's just an infatuation. She's in love with the idea of being in love with you," 

"Which is why she tried to kill herself when I wouldn't date her as a teenager," Petyr drawled sarcastically. 

"Teenagers-no, people-do stupid things when they're in love. They do even stupider things when they think they're in love." 

"She'll be easy enough to dispose of when I'm done with her." 

"Will she? She won't let you go with a simple divorce Petyr oh no. You may have to kill her. I know you're not above killing but could you really kill her?" 

"I've fantasised about killing her every day of my life since that evening," 

Petyr scowled as he saw the hateful woman laughing with another highborn lady. 

He thought of all the painful, slow deaths that he could give her. 

He thought of killing the woman who stole his virginity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clear up a few things: I will be going into more depth as to why Petyr gave his virginity to Lysa (because I mean come on who would do that) but it will be later on in the story.  
> This won't be mentioned anywhere in the story I don't think so I'll say it here: Petyr has fucked other girls since Lysa to 'remove the lingering feeling of her' essentially. At first it was whores bc young Petyr probably sucked at pulling girls lets be real, but as he became more of the Littlefinger personage he became more of a seducer/manipulator and could get whatever girls he wanted, but it was only ever one night stands with pretty ladies at high house parties, as he didn't trust himself to love again after Cat.  
> Also fear not we will have some delightful interactions between our two lovers in the next half of this chapter


	7. Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this chapter ended up longer than I expected...

"Oh my God it's Petyr!" 

The man in question swivelled around as he heard a female voice shriek his name. The night was growing old and it was clear that the young Margaery Tyrell was not holding her drink very well as she stumbled towards him on her embarrassed brother's arm. 

"It is so good to finally meet you," she laughed as they approached. 

"And you Miss Tyrell, Mr Tyrell," Petyr greeted the siblings with his ever present formality. 

"I apologise for my sister, Mr Baelish. I'm afraid she's had quite a few glasses of champagne and she can't hold her alcohol quite as well as the other Tyrell women," 

"Hey! I'm not drunk, if that's what you're insinya-insinu..." Margaery stumbled over her words attempting to say 'insinuating' but clearly failing. In the end, she gave up and just slurred: "what you're trying to say!" 

Loras rolled his eyes and Baelish suppressed the urge to laugh. He'd never spoken properly with Margaery Tyrell, and found it amusing that the first conversation that they were to have together would be while she was piss drunk at a party full of high born ladies and gentlemen. 

"Anyway Petyr, I super wanted to speak with you tonight! It's not every day a girl gets to speak with someone like you. The famous Petyr Baelish- actually... I wonder if she'll get jealous that I've spoken to you before she has tonight?" Maragery was laughing loudly and Petyr could hardly make sense of the words she was speaking. The look on Loras' face told Petyr that he was thinking the same as him. 

"Come on Maragery, we shouldn't bother Mr Baelish for too long I'm certain he's got many other people to talk to tonight about important matters," Loras tugged lightly on his sisters arm, "why don't we go speak with your Tommen over by the Baratheon table?" 

"You can go over to the Baratheon table to speak with your Renly, I need to speak with Mr Baelish and it is really important and you can't be here for it so shoo!" Margaery swatted at her brother who was torn between looking annoyed and embarrassed at her, and longingly at the Baratheon table where his obvious lover, Renly sat. 

"It's all right, Mr Tyrell, you can go over to the Baratheon table if you wish. Your sister is in good hands." 

Petyr's hands were the dirtiest of anyone in the entire room, but Loras needn't know that. Besides, he'd never harm an innocent and vulnerable drunk girl who happened to be his attractive niece's best friend. 

Loras weighed his options for a moment, before ultimately deciding that speaking with his boyfriend would be far more pleasant that dragging around his drunk little sister all night. He gave Petyr a quick nod in thanks and gave a polite farewell, before bolting to the Baratheon table before Petyr could change his mind about looking after Margaery. 

Margaery pulled Petyr to a nearby vacant table and plonked herself down on the seat. Petyr joined her (although with much more of an elegant sit down than she had performed). 

"So... You'll never guess what I know," Margaery said to him in a teasing tone. 

"No, I suppose I probably won't. Although I imagine you know a great deal of things, Miss Tyrell." 

"Ugh, you sound so formal! You clearly haven't had enough to drink-Lighten up! It is a party after all!" 

"Technically it's a ball," Petyr corrected her, "although a ball is a form of party," 

"Now I'm beginning to not want to tell you!" She pouted like a stubborn child. 

He sighed. If this girl was going to tell him anything of use he might as well humour her. 

"If I get a drink for both of us will you tell me?" 

"Oh absolutely!" Her mood was snapping left and right like a metronome and it made Petyr a little wary. He didn't have much experience handling young drunk girls that didn't even know what emotion to feel. 

He had a serving boy bring them both a glass of champagne (Petyr didn't care too much for the taste but it was clear that the younger girl liked it, considering how much of it she had drank that evening) and Margaery grinned widely. She took a sip and then leaned over far too close for Petyr's comfort and whispered in his ear: "I think someone has a crush on you,"

She sat back and giggled hysterically like a primary school child. 

"Pray tell, who might this mysterious woman be?" 

Petyr honestly wasn't in the mood for looking after a childish drunk woman. Varys hadn't left him in the best of moods, and if Margaery was going to tell him something stupid like "your wife" then he was going to leave the party, go home and scream into his pillow on the bed that he was forced to share with the one person he hated the most in his life. He'd actually contemplated smothering her in her sleep multiple times, but no. He needed her alive, at least until he had the Arryn accounts. 

"Wait, you have to promise you won't tell anyone! And you can't tell her I told you!" 

"I promise," Petyr sighed, not in the mood for her childish attitude. He was too sober for this, and she was too drunk to notice his lack of enthusiasm. 

"Okay, okay... Well, maybe I shouldn't actually..." 

"Just-tell me," he snapped. 

"Alright, okay," she giggled, "I think Sansa Stark might have a bit of a thing for you!" 

Petyr stopped. Sansa? He was so sure she was going to mention one of her single, older cousins-someone that he could manipulate as a result of this crush... But Sansa? Two people close to the girl had told him of her apparent interest now and he was beginning to think that sleeping with her could be much sooner and easier than he originally thought. 

"Are you certain?" He asked cautiously, as to not give away any of his intentions to the girl's best friend. Oh the games he would play with her were going to be glorious. 

"Oh yeah absolutely! I mean she like never stops talking about you pretty much. And there was this one time we were hanging out and she was blushing so bad when I asked her about you and she was all flustered and it was quite cute really."

'I bet,' Petyr thought, imagining the young girl, cheeks flushed, biting her lips, maybe twirling her hair and looking up at him past her long eyelashes with her big blue eyes and all of a sudden, he was imagining his niece with this expression in an extremely less than decent situation and he felt that sensation where he felt bad that he didn't feel bad about this sinful thoughts that were invading his mind. 

'She's seventeen! What is wrong with you?' He mentally scolded himself. Well, there was a lot of things wrong with him really. Enjoying this stunning seventeen year old was far from the worst thing he'd ever done. 

'As long as no one finds out, you'll be fine right?' He reasoned. He could scarcely believe that he was only beginning to justify his probably awful actions now, and not when he had got off to her not long before. 

Sure Varys already knew, but Varys didn't count, because Petyr and Varys had some sort of unspoken truce with each other. They were both secretive men and had the power to destroy the other if they wanted, and if that ever happened then the result could be possibly catastrophic. Both of them were extremely influential and if even one of them were to go, the houses would begin to destroy themselves. Bankruptcy and fights and ruin is what would come if Baelish and Varys weren't around to keep everything stable. It was their fault half of the men in this room were still alive actually. 

"So, what're you going to do with this information, Mr Baelish?" Maragery asked the man in a teasing manor. 

"Nothing," Petyr lied. The girl may be drunk but she was still Sansa's best friend, and would probably report back the the girl on what he had said about her. "I do believe that would be none of your concern anyway." He smiled at the young lady and stood up, extending his arm out to her. She rose and took it. 

"Come, let me take you back to your grandmother. I'm certain we'll speak again soon." 

Petyr led Margaery back to her table as promised, giving a few friendly words to Olenna before departing. 

Now it was time to find his red haired beauty. 

 

\----------

 

Finding Theon wasn't an easy task. Eddard had been furious when the young man had disappeared early on in the night. 

"I told him he was to stay at this table all night unless I told him otherwise!" Sansa's father had lashed out, "I won't have him getting drunk and whoring out young ladies, bringing dishonour not only to his name but to my name too!" 

Her parents had sent Sansa to go find the boy. Robb and Jon were off dancing with their respective girlfriends, Bran could hardly go searching in his wheelchair and Rickon was far too young to see what he may discover Theon discover. Arya might have been able to go, but Catelyn didn't want to drag her away from socialising for once-she had actually made a new high born friend of the girl with the scarred face. 

That left Sansa.

She stalked angrily through the clusters of guests, annoyed at both her parents and Theon for being forced to find him, just as she had locked eyes with Petyr Baelish across the room for the first time that evening. He'd looked very handsome in his suit (a much nicer one than he had worn to his wedding, she noted) and was dying to speak with the man. Especially with her new found knowledge. 

Theon was easier found than she had expected. Tucked away in some corner with a whore (Robert Baratheon invited them even to his important balls, to satisfy his needs that his wife could not) is where she thought he would have been. But instead, he was eating almost nervously by the banquet table, next to another young man with jet black hair. 

Sansa approached the two with caution; Theon was acting like she'd never seen besides this unfamiliar man. 

She didn't catch what they were talking about, their voices (or rather, the black haired boy's voice) were hushed so that even as she stood unnoticed beside them, she still couldn't hear. 

"Father expects you back at the table immediately." She addressed him coldly after a moment. She had never liked Theon. 

Greyjoy looked surprised as she spoke, as if him and this other man were speaking in an isolated space, not in the bustling Baratheon ballroom, however the other looked completely unsurprised by her voice as if he knew she would be here. She didn't trust him. 

Theon nodded and scurried off as quickly as possible when Sansa added: "he's furious." 

The man Theon was speaking with turned to Sansa with a grin that was meant to he friendly, but it made her sick to her stomach. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you miss," the man extended his hand towards her. She took it hesitantly. "Ramsay Snow," he introduced himself. 

So he was a Snow. A bastard child, of some high born scum Sansa supposed. Not that her father was scum of course, but most men who fathered bastards were. 

"Sansa-" 

"Sansa Stark. I know who you are." He finished for her. "May I trouble you for a dance, Miss Stark?" 

He asked politely enough, but she didn't trust him. She could hardly be seen dancing with a bastard even if she did want to. She was the first born daughter of Eddard Stark for lord's sake, she had a reputation to uphold. Yes she may have earned some looks (and comments from bolder people) for speaking with the imp, but he was a Lannister! Not some no-name bastard belonging to some unaccomplished high born . He must be unaccomplished because Sansa had never heard of a bastard called Ramsay among high born men. Of course, men didn't tend to talk about their bastards but Sansa knew about most of them anyway. It was her job, as the first born Stark daughter to know as much as possible about all the other houses, in order for her to make an informed decision when choosing a husband. 

"I'm sorry, sir. My mother and father requested me back at our family table as soon as I had fetched Theon. Perhaps another time?" 

She went to walk away from him but he grabbed her wrist tight. She didn't try to pull away, his tight grip had her rooted to the spot in fear. 

"But I am no 'sir'," he told her, "I bet that's why you won't dance with me. You think you're too good for me don't you?" 

He pulled her wrist towards him so that she was forced to face him. 

"But that won't do. I'm used to getting what I want, Miss Stark. Now, shall we?" He gestured to the dance floor. She said nothing, but followed Ramsay without further protest. 

Her whole body moved stiffly, and his hand kept a tight grip on one of her arms instead of holding her hand. 

"You're cocky, for a bastard," she choked out eventually, finding her words. It didn't come out as confident as she had hoped. 

"Yes, I suppose I am," he shrugged, "but I'll be legitimised soon. A true Bolton." 

He was Roose Bolton's son? Sansa wasn't aware that Roose Bolton has a bastard son, and he was one of her father's most trusted advisors! 

"Know who I am now, do you?" He teased. "Unlike your father, my father isn't ashamed of me. He's willing to make me a Bolton, he trusts me with his works secrets, I know everything." 

This thought frightened Sansa. She didn't want this man to know anything. Knowledge was power as a bastard with no name, no money and practically no family. This was what made Ramsay different to Jon. Ramsay knew so much, but Jon knew nothing. 

"My father isn't ashamed of Jon." She told him stubbornly. 

"Oh really? Tell me, is Jon going to become a Stark soon? Or ever?" 

Sansa didn't have a reply to that. Her mother would never allow it even if Ned was willing to make Jon a Stark, and therefore his heir. 

"That's what I thought." 

She was silent once more. She needed to be braver, stronger, able to find out what this man was up to. 

"Why did you ask me to dance with you?" She managed eventually. It was a shit question, she knew. But it was a start. 

"Well, it wasn't to talk about your bastard brother or my legitimacy," Ramsay laughed. 

His laughter unnerved Sansa even more so than his grin. 

"Well, what then?" 

"I must say Sansa, you're a lot more beautiful than I expected," 

Sansa didn't blush, or feel anything for that matter, at the comment. If it were anyone else, she may have thanked them bashfully, but when Ramsay gave her this compliment it made her feel disturbed and uneasy. 

"Thank you," she stated emotionlessly. 

"When my father told me to come and find you tonight, I was expecting an ugly girl, fat and grotesque... But instead I find you. Young, slim, beautiful-" the way he was looking at Sansa made her want to vomit. She had wanted to be looked at in this dress, but not by a sick bastard who was undressing her with his eyes, "-you can hardly blame me for being pleased." 

"You honour me with your words," she lied through gritted teeth. 

"I'm glad you think so! You're a young beauty Sansa dear, but it won't be that way forever. I'm sure you understand that a young beauty like yourself must find a husband before she becomes old and... Undesirable. They say the pretty children turn ugliest the quickest, I wonder what that would mean for someone of your beauty? Looks that rival even Cersei Lannister in her prime... That can't bode well for your future!" 

"Where are you going with this?" She asked, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. 

"I have an offer for you, Miss Stark!"

Her fears were true it seemed. She was going to get proposed to by a Snow. Roose Bolton's possibly insane Snow. In the middle of a Baratheon ball no less! It wasn't uncommon for there to be proposals to join houses between near to complete strangers among high born families, but a bastard would normally never dare to even approach a high born lady such as herself! 

"You want to join the Stark house with house Bolton," she spat. 

"Well, yes and no," he chuckled darkly, taking amusement out of her apparent disgust. "I know you're a picky girl, Sansa Stark, my offer is, that if you're not married by twenty five-and who knows how much longer you'll still be beautiful after that-then I will marry you as the legitimate son of Roose Bolton. How does that sound?" 

She said nothing, appalled at the fact that a bastard who made her so uneasy had the audacity to offer such things to her. 

"Need some more convincing? A secure husband would be enough for some girls but clearly not for Sansa Stark! My father has been a loyal ally to your father for quite some time now. With us married we could strengthen the bond between our houses. Not to mention the financial gain, both houses would profit as we'd be obliged to give each other support when needed," 

'Your father should already do that if he was as loyal as you claim,' Sansa thought bitterly. 

"What's more, our son would be heir to my father's growing enterprise! You know the statistics for how much it's going to grow don't you? Well, it's a lot. Any of these other fancy men that you might want could offer you their parents enterprises-but they won't know for sure whether they'll collapse by the time you produce an heir. Our company is growing and growing and there's nothing that will stop it. Don't you want that for your child?" 

Roose Bolton had put him up to his. Sansa knew it. Wanting to secure the trust between Bolton and Stark. Someone who's desperate enough for trust that they'll send their bastard son to propose to a high born lady in the middle of a ball was not to be trusted. 

"...may I have some time to think about it?" She lied, knowing that her answer was already no. What she would think about is a valid excuse that wouldn't tarnish the relationship between Stark and Bolton. 

"Of course! Here," he passed her a card that had a number (presumably his) on it. "Once you've made your decision give me a call. You have until the end of the year-which is only a few weeks really. Oh, and Sansa, remember what I said before: I'm used to getting what I want." 

Ramsay placed a gently kiss on her lips. It's was brief enough but the contact made her have to swallow down bile that was rising in her throat as a result. 

The bastard pulled her off the dance floor and placed another chaste kiss to her cheek. 

"I have a feeling we'll get to know each other very well, Sansa Stark," 

Sansa hoped that he was wrong. 

"Ramsay!" A girl's voice called out. A plain but pretty young girl a few years older than Sansa appeared behind him and slid her arms around his shoulders. That snake was already seeing this girl! 

"I do hope you're done with this... Little girl," she eyed Sansa up and down, disgust clearly in her eyes. "I was hoping to speak to you about... What we discussed earlier." 

"Not now Myranda, I'm in the middle of something important," 

"Whatever it is can wait, or does the little girl have a bedtime?" 

The other girl clearly was in the loop regarding the conversation Ramsay had just had with her. She wasn't an ugly girl, but the clear jealousy radiating from her made her almost as undesirable as Sansa's aunt Lysa. 

"We were just finishing off actually so you can have your lover to yourself. That is, if he still wants you right now. Or didn't you know that jealousy is an extremely unattractive trait?" Sansa couldn't keep her mouth shut. Ramsay Snow may scare her, but an unimportant, jealous bitch certainly didn't. 

"Ooh, so she's a cocky little girl too." She stepped from behind Ramsay and gave Sansa's hand a quick shake. "Myranda Royce," she introduced herself. "I do hope we never have to see each other again, but I don't think you'll have a pleasant time if you do decide to accept Ramsay's generous offer. Not that a child like you could see how generous it is, you're clearly far too self centred." 

Sansa smirked at the sarcastic smile Myranda was giving her. She was not so easily riled and she would be happy to trade insults with Myranda all day. She was pathetic at it. 

"You're just giving me all the more reason to accept, miss Royce. If I were to marry Ramsay I'd love to see the look on your face. Do you really think a soon to be Bolton will stay interested in a serving girl like you? No matter how pretty you are, you're pretty pathetic to be this jealous of a... How did you put it again? Little girl?" 

Oh this was fun. Ramsay was behind them, watching with a neutral expression, as if there weren't two girls literally fighting over him right in front of him. Sansa's smirk didn't even falter when Myranda grabbed the sleeve of her dress and yanked it forward roughly, whispering sweetly in her ear: "he will never love you miss Stark, so quit while you're ahead and don't be a delusional fool." 

"Miss Royce! If it isn't an unpleasure to see you again!" 

The two girls stepped apart to see a man with a thick accent striding towards them. 

"M-mr Martell!" She squeaked. 

"We had a chat last time we talked, no? About how your nasty attitude will get you into trouble in your line of work?" 

"I'm not like that anymore. I've got a job with the Bolton family." 

"Oh? Were you good enough to him that he decided to keep you to himself? I must say this shocks me, I've had millions better than you-and here I thought you had good taste Mr Ramsay! Kissing a beauty like Miss Stark here one minute, and having the likes of Myranda Royce wrapped around you like a serpent the next. You English men baffle me!" 

"Mr Martell, it's a pleasure to meet you again," Ramsay extended his hand to Martell, who completely blanked him and turned to Sansa. 

"Miss Stark, my love, might I ask a dance of you?" 

The man had a kind face and seemed to know Ramsay and Myranda. Sansa could get some information from the man, as well as some fun most likely. 

She gave him a genuine smile and latched onto his arm as she waltzed once again onto the dance floor. 

"You looked like you needed rescuing, sweet one," the older man explained. 

Sansa got a good look at his face and found that he actually wasn't bad looking. He looked about the same age as her uncle Petyr and had tan skin and hair the colour of coal. He had a distinct sweet smell about him, and Sansa was already warming up to this man without even knowing him properly. Much like she had done with Petyr come to think of it...

"That's very kind of you sir, but I was handling myself just fine." 

"I'm sure you were, but seeing a young beauty such as yourself with Ramsay Snow and Myranda Royce... They're not the best two people to be with when you're in your position." 

He spun her around gently to the music, causing her to laugh lightly. 

"Ah! Forgive me, my lady, but I believe I haven't introduced myself properly. My name is Oberyn Martell, but just Oberyn is fine. I'm here representing my brother's Dornish company." 

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr Ma- um, Oberyn. I'm Sansa Stark," 

Unlike Ramsay, the man didn't interrupt her introduction, but still said: "yes I figured as much. You have your mothers hair. Although a few shades lighter, it is definitely Tully-red." 

"Mr- Oberyn. Can you tell me about Ramsay and Myranda?" 

"Of course my sweet! You need to be as informed as possible in order for you to deny that marriage proposal." 

"How did you-?" 

"I was close by when I heard him speak to you. Let's start with Myranda shall we? She's a lot less to handle than Ramsay. The last time I met her, she was a whore," 

Sansa looked shocked but said nothing. 

"She... Murdered another girl. Jealous of her, because she suspected her of sleeping with the club's owner when she wanted him for herself." Oberyn scoffed, "as if Baelish would ever want a stupid bitch that worked for him," 

"Petyr Baelish?" Sansa exclaimed. 

"You know Petry Baelish?" Oberyn looked confused. 

"He's my uncle, by law..." She explained. 

Oberyn laughed out loud, "oh, do tell me you're joking sweet girl, that is hilarious!" 

Oberyn looked at her face and saw that she was, in fact, being serious. 

"Oh my god... Either Petyr turned out to be gay for Edmure Tully which would never happen in a million years... Or he married Lysa Arryn!"

The Dornish man howled with laughed as he continued to dance with the red haired girl. A few people looked over in confusion, but it seemed as though most were used to the loudness of the foreign guest. 

"Could we get back to Ramsay Snow and Myranda Royce please?" Sansa asked politely. 

"Of course, of course. My apologies, I was just not expecting such news! As I was saying, she killed this girl and planted the evidence to frame the girl's best friend. She couldn't do this alone of course, and got help from Petyr because she was one of his best money makers. Admittedly when I was staying with Petyr a few years ago, I spent a night with Myranda and she was nothing special. Boring, plain. You can find girls like her just about anywhere, which is why I was surprised to see her here!" 

"How do you know my uncle Petyr?" She asked. As nice as he was, Oberyn did not seem the type of man to hang out with her uncle Petyr. 

"Me and your uncle? We go way back, he's a very good friend of mine. Good business partner too." 

Sansa nodded. She was just being overloaded with information tonight. Taking notes wouldn't be a bad idea at this point. 

"Now, onto Ramsay Snow. That little shit is pure evil. Psychotic. There must be something wrong with him I don't understand how one could act like he does if they were normal. He used to go to Petyr's club a lot before he got banned for brutalising the girls. Some of them that get paid for being used roughly but even they couldn't handle what he did to them. He's even worse than the crazy Lannister boy-and that is saying something. There's credible rumours of him and his father too, torturing their opponent by flaying them. Nasty, nasty stuff. I know you've only just met me, Miss Sansa but I want you to trust me when I ask of you, stay far, far away from Ramsay Snow." 

"I will. I promise," she said quietly.

"Good. Now that we've got all that nasty stuff out of the way, might I get to know you a little better?" 

"I'm afraid she'll have to decline," 

Sansa jumped as she felt a pair of hands on her waist and was turned around forcefully from Oberyn's grip to face none other than Petyr Baelish. 

"I'll be stealing the lady for a dance of two I'm afraid," Petyr smirked at the Dornish man and held Sansa close to his chest. 

"We'll meet again, Sansa Stark!" Oberyn said before disappearing into the crowd. 

"Petyr... I missed you," she whispered into his shirt, hoping that he wouldn't hear. 

"And I missed you, sweetling," he murmured, running a brief hand through her hair. 

"Wait-aunt Lysa!" Sansa quickly pulled herself reluctantly a little further from Petyr. "If she sees you with me she'll-" 

"Hush now, you don't have to worry about Aunt Lysa. Do you really think I'd risk her seeing us? I wouldn't do that to you. She left a little while ago with Robin. He was tired and she had to take him home. I of course, have to stay here to the end of this thing. Do you really thing I would put off coming to see my niece for so long for no reason?" 

Sansa's heart fluttered. Despite all she now knew of this man, he was still treating her like a gentleman. More so than Joffrey had treated her, even at the beginning, before the anger kicked in and his true colours began to show.

"I believe you've had a very busy night sweetling. Tyrion Lannister, Ramsay Snow, Myranda Royce and even Oberyn Martell, the Dornish prince. Would you like to tell me about it?" 

"I could tell you about it, but information has a price," she teased him. 

"Oh please. What information could a seventeen year old girl possibly have that could interest me?" 

"You'd be surprised, uncle," 

He looked at her for a moment, trying to decide whether she was bluffing or not. Sansa wasn't and wanted him to know it. 

"Alright, your information for mine. A very drunk Maragery Tyrell spoke with me tonight and told me something you might find very interesting." 

Sansa pretended to contemplate his words. She was going to say yes no matter what. She didn't even expect anything in return, she was just playing with him. But if he had information to give, hell she would take it. It sounded like he was bluffing to her anyway (hell, what would Margaery Tyrell say to Petry Baelish?) but she didn't care. 

"Fine. But I think you're bluffing about the Margaery thing." 

Petyr grinned, "well then, let's begin with Tyrion." 

"I want to begin with Ramsay." 

"Then we'll begin with Ramsay." 

"He proposed to me," she started with abruptly, wanting to keep the conversation with Theon to herself for now. 

"I'm sorry-what?" Petyr practically spluttered, not expecting sudden news like that from the young girl. "You didn't accept did you?" He sounded concerned. Sansa liked that. She wanted him to care about her. She imagined to herself that he was being protective of her not because she was his niece, but because he wanted her for himself. She could only dream of that being the possibility. 

"Well, technically I didn't give him an answer. But he gave me his phone number and I'm planning on declining once I have a proper reason." 

"Good. You want to stay as far away from Ramsay Snow as possible. I do wonder... Why on earth would a bastard like him propose to you? Not that you're not lovely my dear, but this situation is unheard of in upper class circles." 

"His father put him up to it I'm sure, since he already has some sort of relationship with Myranda." 

"Any theories as to why?" 

It felt like Petry was testing her. Trying to determine how smart she was. If that was the case then she'd give him what he wanted. She'd show him just how well she can play. 

"What's the one of the main reasons that houses join their names? Trust." She stated, "a man who would send his bastard son to propose to a high born lady like myself must be desperate for trust. A man like that cannot be trusted." 

"Smart girl," Petry complimented her. 

Yes. She wanted him to think highly of her, she was desperate for his affection. Craving this corrupt man who held her in his arms could hardly be good for her, but she found herself needing him. Leaning into the arms of the foul man that she was embarrassed to admit having pleasured herself to the thought of mere days ago. 'Compliment me more,' she prayed silently, 'please Petyr,' 

"I take it Myranda stepped in next?" Petyr queried. 

"Yes. She was extremely jealous of me, which I used to my advantage. I toyed with her, telling her that I was thinking of marrying Ramsay and riling her up by calling her out on her jealousy. Ramsay didn't seem to care but she got really mad, I think I can use that against her if I ever have to meet her again." 

She could see a ghost of a devilish smirk along his ever smiling mouth and she couldn't help but feel pride. The man in front of her always had a pleasant smile on his face, but Sansa now knew that it was a façade. A mask. The fact that she could cause this hint of something else in his expression made her heart pound faster. 

"And how does Oberyn play into all of this?" He asked. 

"Oh he told me some very interesting things about Myranda and Ramsay. Ramsay's a psychopath who I'm to stay far, far away from. And Myranda... Well, I know what she used to be, what she used to do for money... Who she used to work for," 

She looked Petyr directly in the eyes as she said this. She swore she saw some other emotion flicker across his face but she ignored it and continued. 

"Which brings me nicely onto Tyrion Lannister. He told me some... Very interesting things about you uncle," 

"Is that so?" He muttered. 

"I knew there was more to you that meets the eye, Petyr and I was determined to find out about what lies under those eyes that your smile never reaches." She wasn't completely lying, but she wasn't about to tell Petry about the bit of help that she got from aunt Lysa. She wanted him to think that she did this mostly by herself. 

"So I went to Tyrion Lannister. He's the only person I know who has a vast knowledge of other people within this high born circle that won't rat me out to my parents. I know about your clubs, your drugs, your whores... I know everything about you Petry Baelish." 

She fingered his mockingbird pin and looked deep into his eyes and hoped that a look could convey her feelings; that she wasn't scared of him. That she wanted him. 

They were both silent for quite some time, their bodies still moving perfectly in sync with the music playing in the background. 

"I believe I owe you more of a reward than what I promised, considering the circumstances." 

Sansa was confused at what he meant, and before she could ask, warm lips were pressed to her own. 

It was a brief kiss, over before it started. To anyone that might have glanced over it would look like a chaste kiss between uncle and niece. But it felt like anything but that.

Sansa's heart was pounding furiously in her chest. She could feel the heat on her face and knew that she was the colour of the Lannister banners hanging from the ceiling. 

Petyr didn't look flustered at all. He held usual calm composure and continued to talk as if nothing had happened. 

"Now, about what Margaery Tyrell said-"

"Sansa!" 

The young girl was yanked away from Petyr by her wrist, and was faced with her mother. 

"We're leaving." Her mother threw a furious look at Petyr and Sansa didn't understand why. Sure he may have kissed her, but even if she was looking it couldn't have looked like more than a friendly gesture. It was an even shorter kiss than the one that Ramsay Snow had given her, for christs sake! 

"But mother-" 

"Now." 

Sansa was pulled across the ballroom by her seething mother. She threw back a desperate look at the man who has just kissed her. He stood there helplessly, unable to do anything against her mother. 

"I told you to be wary of that man, Sansa. Stay away from him." 

Sansa nodded and told her mother that she would. But her mind said something else. Her mind said that she would do anything to see that man again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we've met some characters that are gonna be really important in this story, thoughts? Petyr and Sansa are gonna meet again really soon I promise because I don't know about you but I need more of those two together. Also my mother walked in on me writing this chapter and asked to read it... It was very embarrassing.


	8. I Don't Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologise for how much Sansa's POV sucks in this chapter, I needed to get some stuff out the way and I don't think I did it very well... I wrote most of this chapter at my dance studio since I've literally been there pretty much everyday rehearsing for the show I'm in-I've had zero free time to write this.  
> Also, I know the Durwells don't exist anymore in canon but for the sake of this story they do. Thanks for reading :)

The club was near silent as Petyr inhaled on his menthol, thinking on the rash actions he had taken just a few nights ago. He hadn't meant to kiss her, really he hadn't; but that look in her eyes, the fearlessness, the passion he saw in those big blue eyes. He needed a taste of her, and that's what he took. The kiss was purposefully quick, hoping to pass it off as a friendly gesture to anyone who may have looked on, but Catelyn fucking Stark was watching, and now they were both in the shit. 

To his surprise, Sansa had actually messaged Petyr a couple of times after the party. Once to apologise for their very brief talk, and another just to converse with him. Petyr didn't know what Tyrion Lannister told Sansa, but he knew if it was about him then it couldn't be good. Yet she still talked with him, danced with him, even let him kiss her. Perhaps Arya and Margaery were right. Perhaps Sansa really did have a crush on her uncle. But what did that mean, for the both of them? It could jeopardise Petyr's whole plan, just as Varys had warned. Being involved with his fucked up world would hardly be good for Sansa and her wellbeing. That was another thing, the girl was making him feel things for the first time in a very long while. He needed to stay cold and distant in his line of work, and yet here was this damn girl making him throw all caution to the wind and do whatever he fucking pleased. 

He was acting like the old Petyr. The Petyr that nearly died for Catelyn Stark, the Petyr that was raped in his hospital bed, the Petyr that wouldn't have survived in this world before he changed. 

"I still can't believe you kissed the girl," Petyr's assistant, Olyvar stated from the seat across the table they were sat at. 

"Neither can I," he muttered. 

"I mean, it's just not like you! To act rashly in a situation that could get you into trouble... Perhaps this girl could be a good thing for you though, she seems to be bringing out your human side,"

"Which is not something I want. In this game it's win or die, and if I've got burdens like a seventeen year old girl who has a crush on her new uncle then I know I certainly won't be winning," 

"So you'll stay away from her?" 

Petyr paused. He wouldn't, he knew it. He couldn't stand being away from this girl, but he also couldn't stand the fact that he could start losing control of the game because of his need for her. 

"... I don't know," he admitted truthfully. "God, Olyvar, what am I going to do?" He groaned, running his free hand through his hair. 

"Well, why don't you invite her here one night? Let her see what you really do, who you really are and then she's bound to stay away and you won't have to let her down yourself!" Olyvar seemed pretty pleased with his idea, but little did he know Sansa already knew about everything. 

"She knows. Everything I assume. She doesn't care, it seems to excite the girl if anything." Petyr took a long drag from his cigarette. 

"The girl was brought up in a strict religious household if my assumptions are correct. She's bound to want a taste of thrills after that kind of lifestyle, but she won't know what it's really like. She'll get way too in over her head if you let her and once she realises just how better off she is without all of it, she'll be out of your hair-again, no need for dirty work from you."

"I won't do that." He told his assistant firmly. 

"And why not?" 

'Because in that space of time when she'll indulge in this world of sin, I'll get far too attached to her to let her go,' Petyr thought. 

"Afternoon, boss!" 

Petyr was glad that his best worker, Ros, entered at that moment, allowing Petyr to escape the question. 

Ros was a pretty girl, red curls currently scraped up into a bun, and only a few years younger than Petyr, he assumed, but men flocked to her as if she was ten years younger than what she actually was. Petyr didn't care why frankly, as long as she brought in money, he would be satisfied with her. 

"Ros, good to see you," he stood from his chair and stubbed out his cigarette before walking over to the woman. "Any news?" 

"The girls for auditions are here Mr Baelish, there's five I think. I can bring them through to the main stage if you're ready?" 

"Christ," he muttered, tapping another cigarette out of the pack and lighting it up, taking a long draw from the stick. The girls who auditioned for him were almost always shite, and he needed a discreet distraction. For Petry, the taste of mint had always easily distracted him. From a young age he'd chewed on gum and mints in school, when Lysa talked, when there was nothing on TV, it had become second nature for his mind to wander whilst indulging on his favourite taste. 

"Bring them in, this better be good, I'm not in the best of moods today. In fact, explain that to them. Maybe they'll try harder if they know I'll snap easier." 

Ros nodded and walked briskly out of the room to fetch the girls, never one to keep her boss waiting, especially when he was in one of his foul moods. 

The girls took to the stage as Petyr and Olyvar pulled up chairs to watch, with Ros standing beside them. Petry didn't bother to even look over the girls after the first two, they looked like the same generic girls that came to him nearly every day, and none of them were ever good enough. 

"As you can probably tell I'm not in the best of moods, girls. Let's get this over with shall we?" He gave them a sarcastic smile and crossed one leg over his other. 

He focused on the taste of mint in his mouth as Ros gave a quick explanation to the girls of what they were expected to do during this audition. First they would be asked to dance, to see if they would actually be able to seduce clients. Next was a... Private session with one of the male escorts, to prove that they could please a client. If they made it that far, then a professional job interview with Petyr would be conducted. Petyr didn't know why Ros bothered running through all this. Hardly anyone ever made it past the dancing stage. 

Ros crossed the room the hit the music and Petyr- as always- wanted to curl up in a ball and die when he saw them dancing. They looked tacky and cheap, the exact opposite of what Petyr wanted in a worker. Olyvar was visibly cringing at one girl and Ros could hardly look. Of course on his bad day he'd be given a bunch of shit girls that would audition in front of him. 

He was about to hold his hand up, signalling for Ros to stop the music and for the atrocious auditions to end, but his eyes fell upon an actual good dancer on the stage. She was rather small, with light blonde hair that reached her waist, and bright green eyes that were trained on Olyvar, only leaving him when she gracefully twirled to the music. Petyr watched in intrigue as Olyvar actually shifted forward in his seat a little once he locked eyes with her, an effect that the older man had never seen any girl have on the boy. She was wearing very little makeup if any, which gave her a much more natural and beautiful look as opposed to the other girls who were caked in the stuff. She looked older than she actually was, but unlike Olyvar he could tell that she was young. Too young to be wasting her life on a profession like this. 

Petyr tore his eyes from the admittedly mesmerising girl and her perfect dance routine and looked to Ros, raising his hand slightly. She nodded at him and knocked off the sound system, some of the girls looking around, confused at what they'd done wrong. 

"Out of my sight. All of you." 

The girls sighed but did nothing more and shuffled off stage, as if rejection was something they faced every day. But not the blonde girl. She looked genuinely disappointed, as if her dream had just been snatched from under her and Petry could hardly understand why. Little girls didn't dream about becoming prostitutes, surely?

"Except you." He pointed at the blonde girl and her head snapped up. "Come here," 

She smiled and eagerly wandered over to him.

"What's your name, little one?" He asked her. 

"Dawn, sir." She said. Her voice was soft with a southern twinge to it. 

"Are you lost, Dawn?" 

"I know exactly where I am, sir." 

"Pray tell, how old are you girl?" 

"17" she said without missing a beat. 

"Now, now. That's not a good start, lying to your potential boss now is it?" 

The girl sighed. "15," 

"Better. Now, forgive me for assuming but from your voice you sound like you could be from a rich family. What brings you to audition at my establishment?" 

"I'm a bastard sir. Dawn Waters is my full name. My step father hates me, my half brothers beat me, my mother cries every time she sees me because she knows that I'm a mistake that nearly jeopardised her future. They're better off without me and I'm better off without them." 

"But why come to a brothel? You seem a smart girl Dawn, why waste your life here?" 

"It's the only thing I'd be able to do sir. There's no jobs for fifteen year old girls with no qualifications and no money who've run away from home apart from escorting. I know I can do it too, I'm no virgin sir and I know that the sort of men who come here would be very interested in a teenager, or a child if I make myself look that way. I've been singing, dancing and acting since I was a child, I know I'd be very good here. I could do other things for you too sir, if you needed me too." 

"Like what?" Petry scoffed, unable to imagine this girl doing anything that he would require of her. 

"I could kill someone, if you needed me too." 

Petyr raised an eyebrow, this girl sounded deadly serious, but looked like she couldn't hurt a fly. 

"I've done it before. Many times actually. Never once been caught, or even suspected." 

Petyr smirked. This girl was ballsy, claiming such things to him. 

"You know Dawn, this place used to be a hotel, before I made some very major adjustments," he told the girl, who looked extremely confused. "There's still a set of apartments upstairs actually. Ros and Olyvar live there, as well as a couple of other girls. I suggest you get your things from wherever you're staying and get back here as soon as possible. I'll have Ros prepare a room for you." 

"You mean-?" 

"Yes. You're hired. As an escort, not an assassin. Now go, I'll want you working tomorrow night." 

"Thank you sir, you won't regret it!" She gave him the biggest smile he'd ever seen on a prostitute and scurried out of the club. 

"She was very good, especially for a girl of her age. Usually the younger ones we get are street rats, and they take a while to adjust," Ros commented. 

For the first time in his whole career as the club's owner he reflected on what he had just done. He didn't regret it, but he felt his weird sense of guilt, where he felt bad that he didn't feel bad about his actions. He had just hired a fifteen year old girl to whore herself out to older men, and for what? Money? Sure she'd get that but she'd come here without even expecting a roof to live under. How could a pretty young thing like her fall so low that she was near ecstatic to become a whore. 

Sansa would surely hate him for what he had done to this girl, to all the young girls in his employ. She couldn't have been told about how young some of the girls were, about how he had no problem selling... Other things for pleasure. If she knew she wouldn't have let him kiss her the other night. He was dreading Margaery Tyrell's looming party. He did not want Sansa to be frightened off from him because of how far he would go to please his clients-especially the rich and fucked up. If she knew everything, then how could a girl like her have feelings for a man like him? 

Petyr was too busy contemplating the young Stark girl that he almost didn't hear the phone ring. 

 

\----------

 

The lunch bell couldn't ring soon enough for Sansa. Mr Luwin was a nice enough teacher, but chemistry lessons had her falling asleep in her chair. Before he could even ask if she'd brought her homework that week (she hadn't) she was already out of the classroom and halfway down the corridor to search for Margaery. By Sansa's side was Mira Forester. Mira was a nice girl that Sansa had known since childhood, the Foresters were good family friends, but Mira seemed to act more like a handmaiden to both Sansa and Margaery because of their higher status'. Sansa had told the brunette on many occasions that she saw her as an equal and a very close friend, but Mira still would behave like a lowly servant to her. 

It was the same with Mira's best friend, Sera Flowers: a bastard girl who was closer to Margaery than Sansa, but still treated the two girls as though she was a lesser person. It was kind of annoying really. Sansa just wanted to have normal friends and a normal life, but being part of an extremely rich family (or 'house' as they were more commonly referred to in the rich circles) prevented that. It's not like she was ungrateful or wished she was poor or anything, she just wished people treated her differently. 

Margaery, as always, wasn't hard to find. People flocked to her like bees to a hive because they all wanted to be her friend. K.L. Private School hosted the richest of the rich, wealthy heirs from all over the country came here (Sansa was thankful her whole family had moved to London so she didn't have to live at the school like many others) and all of them wanted to befriend either Margaery Tyrell or Myrcella Baratheon. It wasn't even Margaery's wealth that attracted people to her. Sansa was certain her family were richer than the Tyrells, but in no one bothered with Sansa the way they fawned over the youngest daughters of house Tyrell and Baratheon. They both held a charm and attraction that no one seemed to find in Sansa, not that she was jealous or anything. 

Sansa was proud to call Margaery her best friend, to see everyone's faces drop in disappointment as Margaery's face lit up when she saw Sansa across the yard and sauntered over to link their arms. 

"How was chemistry?" She asked. 

"Same old, same old. Got a C in the topic test though, which was a nice change from the D I got last time. How was French?" 

"C'était merde," Margaery replied, causing the girls to giggle. 

"Come on let's go get lunch, I'm starving!" Margaery complained, "and I want you to tell me more about what went on with you and Mr Baelish at the weekend," 

"I already told you all there is to know yesterday, and the day before!"

But Margaery wouldn't hear of it, tugging Sansa's arm harder as she pulled her to the dining room, Mira and Sera (who had joined their group along with Margaery) were struggling to keep up with Margaery's fast pace, practically jogging to keep up. 

Sansa hadn't forgotten about what Petyr had said to her, that Margaery had told him something, but she had decided not to ask Margaery about it. She'd just push Petyr fir the information the next time she saw him. 

The lunch line was huge, but no one was about to let Margaery Tyrell wait in a line. Boys and girls alike stepped aside to let her in front, whispering excitedly to their friends if they got so much as a kind smile from the girl or if they were lucky, a 'thank you'. 

The four girls quickly grabbed their lunch and strutted over to a vacant table in the middle of the hall. 

"So, tell me again what the kiss was like," Margaery began abruptly as she forked up some pasta. 

Sansa rolled her eyes at her friend's persistence. "Like I said, it wasn't even a proper kiss. It was just a peck on the lips, he was probably just being friendly. He is my uncle after all," 

Mira and Sera were leaning forward, always eager to hear about whatever gossip went on in the richer girls' lives. Mira probably had a bit of drama to add a bit of excitement to her life (her family was rather rich and influential in the ironwood business) but Sera was a bastard girl, fostering with the dullest house in the whole of London: the Durwells. Sansa couldn't imagine she had a very exciting life outside of flirting with the philosophy teacher, Mr Tarwick.

Margaery and Sansa could talk about anything infront of the two girls, knowing that a word wouldn't be breathed. Most likely because they knew that if they ever did tell anyone any of their secrets, they could ruin their whole reputation. Not that it would ever come to that, Mira and Sera were loyal friends. 

"Oh come on, I bet it wasn't!" Margaery teased 

"It was!" 

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about Sansa! You're not the only one here with a taste for older men," Margaery raised her eyebrows at Sera, who flushed pink. 

"J-just because we talk a lot doesn't mean we've done anything together!" 

"Sera you've kissed the man! Multiple times, even." Mira interjected. 

"Yes but like Sansa said, kisses don't really mean anything, they could just be a friendly gesture!" 

"Yes because you two looked very friendly when I spotted you making out with him after school that one time," Mira teased.

"A peck on the lips from your uncle is one thing, but making out with your philosophy teacher is another," Sansa added. 

Sera didn't have a response, and instead busied herself eating her salad. 

"Come on, we're not here to tease Sera about Mr Tarwick, we're here to tease Sansa about Mr Baelish!" Margaery laughed. 

"It's clear you have feelings for him Sansa, and if he's kissed you he might feel the same." Mira said. 

"I doubt it. He's twenty years older than me and married to my aunt, there's no way he'd like a silly little girl like me," Sansa sighed, a little more regret than she'd like evident in her voice. 

"You want him to like you though, right?" Margaery asked, placing a hand over Sansa's. 

"Yes..." She admitted. 

"Then make him." 

 

\----------

Returning home to her parents' shouting voices unnerved Sansa a little. What unnerved her even more was when she heard her name in the mix of it all. 

Her parents, like most married couples, did tend to get into arguments from time to time. But the only time they ever raised their voices like this was when it was concerning Jon. In fact, Sansa could hardly recall them ever arguing about something other than Jon. Hearing her name during her parents argument made her stomach churn. What could she have done to have her parents screaming like that? Being the middle child, Sansa got hardly any attention as it was. She figured something bad must have happened concerning her if her parents would argue like that about it. 

Creeping up the stairs, she silently made her way to her father's office on the house's first floor. As she approached, the voices got louder and louder, and by the time she was just outside the door, she could hear every word, loud and clear. 

"No, Ned, I will not have that man in my house and especially not overnight!" 

"Cat, we need an adult to look after-" 

"Then get someone else!" 

"I already told you, most people we know have been invited. There is no one else apart from him Cat," 

"There has to be! If not then we should just let Sansa look after the kids," 

"We can't do that Cat, do you really trust her not to get into a fight with Arya every five minutes? And what about Bran? Do you really expect her to be able to look after Bran as well as Rickon and Arya? She's only seventeen Cat, she needs an adult here to help her. God knows Rickon and Arya can be nightmares when they want to be," 

"Ned I'm begging you, please. Think of that man, think of what he's done. And think of our daughter Ned, think of Sansa!" 

"Cat I am thinking of Sansa and as much as I mislike the man we have to-" 

"No Ned I will not have that- that whoremonger alone in the house with my daughters!" 

There was silence then, as Sansa had lost her balance and fallen into the office door, creating a loud thump. She stood up quickly as her father opened the door, surprised to see his daughter standing there, looking embarrassed to have been caught eavesdropping on her parents. 

"How much did you hear?" He asked. 

"I heard enough to know who you were talking about," she answered. 

Ned sighed and put his arm around his daughters shoulder, pulling her into the office. 

"Take a seat, love," Ned gestured to his office chair, which Sansa hesitantly sat down in.

"So, I suppose you know what we were discussing then?"

"Uncle Petyr. You don't trust him." 

"Well, you see sweetheart it's not that we don't trust him it's just-" 

"I don't trust him. Not one bit," Catelyn interjected. "He is a bad man Sansa. I told you to stay away from him for a reason and now, just to invite him into our house-it's absurd!" 

"He was your friend once," Sansa stated. 

"Yes, I suppose he was, once. But he grew up to be a very different man than the little boy I grew up with at Riverrun." 

"I know he's done bad things mother, but he's kind to me and-" 

"Oh yes he seems to be very kind to you my dear, and that's what makes me worry. He kissed you for Christ sake Sansa!" 

"It wasn't a proper kiss mother, I swear it! It was just an innocent gesture of kindness, that's all!" 

"It may have seemed that way to you my love, but I know Petyr Baelish and I'm almost certain it meant something entirely different to him." 

"You didn't say anything when the Bastard of Bolton kissed me, and that was way worse!" 

"What?" Ned's eyes widened, shocked at this news. Sansa had forgotten. She hadn't told her parents about Ramsay's proposal, but now she'd carelessly slipped out with this. God, she could be stupid sometimes. 

"He... He asked for a dance with me, and he kissed me. Twice." Sansa missed out the most important part of her time with Ramsay: the proposal. Her parents didn't need to know about that, especially since she was going to deny him anyway. 

"And you didn't like this kiss?" Her father queried.

"No," she answered simply, the memory of Ramsay's sickening smile making her feel unease, and wishing they could get back to Petyr. Sweet Petyr that made her heart race faster and her insides feel warm and strange. Especially now, with the news that he could be coming round to stay overnight in the near future. She would do anything to make that happen, but her mother wasn't going to give up so easily. Convincing Catelyn to let Petry come over without sounding like she wanted him over was going to be a challenge to be sure. 

"I'll have firm words with Roose about keeping his bas- son under control." Eddard assured her. 

"Sansa, I want you to answer this honestly okay?" Her mother said, "you won't be in trouble I promise but we need to know... Has Petyr ever made you feel..." Catelyn searched for the right word, "Uncomfortable? In what he's said or done? Has he ever said anything disrespectful to you?" 

"No, never, I swear it. He's only ever treated me with respect at the wedding and at Robert Baratheon's party," Sansa left out the fact that they had been communicating outside of these events, and even though he had never said anything inappropriate to her then, Sansa knew it would be best for her parents to assume that they've had as little contact as possible. 

"How would you feel about him coming to babysit this weekend? It'll only be on Friday night, I know you've got Margaery's party on Saturday. We've been invited to a dinner being held by Stannis Baratheon. Robb, your mother and I that is. Jon will be working and everyone else we know has been invited to this dinner, and your aunt Lysa has to stay with Robin at an overnight hospital visit. If there was anyone else you know we would ask them but we need to know if you'll be comfortable with him staying here." 

"I wouldn't mind," Sansa understated, "I'll need all the help I can get with Arya and Rickon. I know you aren't fond of him mother but I'm not a little kid, I can take care of myself." 

Her mother looked extremely displeased and left the room. Had she done it? Was Petyr going to be able to come round? 

"I suppose I'll go give him a call then," Eddard mumbled. 

It took all of Sansa's effort not to grin. She was going to see Petry again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited to write the next chapter I hope I don't fuck it up since I've been looking forward to writing it since I started this story! I really want to write a story in canon setting too but I'm having a hard time thinking up a plot line, if anyone wants to give me any ideas I'd be very grateful!  
> By the way, I thought I'd share that I was on work experience this week as a finance director and 1) Petyr I can see why you have those grey hairs 2) I made every decision by following the acronym: WWPBD? (What Would Petyr Baelish Do?)  
> Also sorry for shameless self promotion but I have a tumblr if anyone wants to follow it? It's prosecutiesautopsyreport :)  
> Okay I'm done now, again thanks for reading!


	9. The Eye of the Beholder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in literally two days oh boy

Thump, thump, thump.

All Sansa could hear was the beat of her own heart racing as she sat, that Friday evening, mindlessly watching TV with Rickon. Petyr would arrive any moment now and she was finding that she was actually really nervous to be in his presence again. The last time she saw him he'd kissed her, how was she supposed to react to that? It wasn't that she hadn't liked the kiss-it had been heaven-but her crush on her uncle was definitely growing and becoming more obvious as a result of it. Should she tell him how she felt? Or should that kiss have given her all the more reason to stay away from this dangerous man? She didn't know. She was so confused. 

The clock on the wall displayed the time- 5:33. He was three minutes late. The anticipation was almost unbearable for Sansa. Admittedly, she had made an effort to make herself look nice for him. Light makeup was applied to her face and her hair had been curled that morning. She was wearing a pretty but casual light blue dress and tan tights that she often used for her dance shows to emphasise her legs. It was all very subtle as to not alert her parents that anything was amiss, but she was hoping that he would notice. 

But what would he do if he did notice? Did he even have feelings for her or was he just playing her? Sansa knew that he must do that to people. Perhaps she was blowing the whole thing out of proportion and she really was just being a silly little girl who makes something big out of a kiss that meant nothing. 

Sighing, she shifted impatiently on the couch. Rickon had begun squirming, already bored with the programme he had put on the television. Bran was doing his homework in the conservatory with Robb who had finished getting ready, Arya was outside playing with a football and Jon was up and getting dressed in black for his night shift. None of them knew just how hard Sansa's heart was racing at the thought of her uncle coming round. Petyr wasn't important to any of them, really. He was just the man that worked with their father and married their aunt. If he were to drop dead the next day none of them would care. But Sansa would. She would weep for him. Because she barely knew this man and yet she cared so much. 

Sansa's parents came down the stairs from their bedroom before long. Her mother, with an elegant midnight blue dress draped around her body and diamond earrings hanging alongside her loose hair, and her father dressed impeccably in a grey suit and purple tie. They looked wonderful, aside from their facial expressions. 

Catelyn looked annoyed, biting her lip and creasing her forehead, and Eddard looked anxious, wringing his hands together and tapping his foot. They clearly weren't too overjoyed about leaving their children alone with Petyr Baelish, perhaps the least qualified person in London to look after four kids for a night. 

"You look wonderful, mother. And you too, father," Sansa told them as Catelyn trotted into the living room, Ned strolling slowly behind her. She left the couch to give her mother an embrace, which was returned with a kiss on the forehead. Cat's expression eased a bit, after the exchange, but she still looked frequently to the door. No doubt wondering when the brothel keeper would arrive. 

"Thank you, Sansa," her mother replied, Eddard giving his own thanks with a smile and a ruffle of her hair. "Where's your brother? We ought to get going as soon as possible. We wouldn't want to keep Stannis waiting." 

Ah, so they (or rather Catelyn) didn't want to see Petyr. Sansa could understand that, and she found herself not wanting them to see him either, she was feeling an emotion that she couldn't believe that she was feeling towards her own mother. 

"He's in the conservatory, helping Bran with his homework," Sansa informed her. 

Catelyn turned to go and fetch her son, but as she was walking through the hallway the doorbell rang. Petyr was here. 

Sansa felt the urge to run and hide, suddenly too embarrassed to face the man who had kissed her less than a week ago. She stood nervously, fiddling with the hem of her dress as her mother huffed and strutted over to the door, her father leaving her side to go and join his wife. 

Sansa watched from the living room doorway as her parents opened the front door, to reveal Petyr, standing with his hands in his pockets and chewing on a piece of gum. 

"Cat, Ned," he greeted with a grin. His grin. The one that was almost always present on his face but never reached his eyes. "You're looking very lovely tonight," he passed it off as if he was saying it to both of them but he was looking right at her mother. There it was, that emotion again. Jealousy. 

"Uncle Petry!" She said, before she could stop herself and think through whether it would be a good idea to show affection to her uncle in front of her parents. "It's very nice to see you again," she tried to pass it off as if she was just being the polite and dutiful daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark. Hopefully all three of them bought it. 

"And you too Sansa," Petyr replied, and she tried not to smile too wide as he passed through the doorway and her heart raced faster. 

She gave him a quick hug, as she would do to most other family members, and tried not to be too disheartened when the embrace ended quickly. Petyr had hardly touched her, and she hoped it was because he was trying to keep her parents unsuspicious and not because he was disinterested. 

Robb had entered the hallway at this point, and greeted Petyr in his Lord-type voice he used whenever speaking to his father's work associates, giving him a firm handshake that he had practically copied from Ned. 

"Right well we best get going," Catelyn announced, grabbing her husband's hand and tugging him towards the door. 

"Of course. I'm sure you'll have a splendid evening," Petyr said before giving his farewells to the oldest Starks. And Sansa tried so hard not to scowl as he embraced her mother for longer than he had touched her. 

They left without even saying goodbye to Sansa, leaving her standing alone with Petyr in the hallway. 

She shifted nervously on the spot, not knowing what to say to the older man. He broke the silence first. "Aren't you going to show me in?" He asked her, teasingly. 

"Oh, of course," she nodded, and lead him silently into the living room, noticing that he'd spat out his chewing gum into a tissue. 

When they entered, Rickon was sprawled across the carpet, moaning from boredom. He turned in his back and frowned when he saw Petyr standing alongside Sansa. 

"Where's mum?" Rickon moaned. 

"She's gone out remember?" Sansa told him, "Uncle Petyr's going to be looking after us tonight." 

"But she won't be able to read me a bedtime story!" 

"I could read it," the young girl offered. 

"You're rubbish though Sansa!" 

"Then what about Arya? I'm sure she wouldn't mind'" she tried not to sound too disheartened. 

"Arya doesn't like any of my books! She doesn't read them properly! And Bran can't either because he can't get up the stairs to my bedroom because of his chair!" 

Sansa had to think fast. The youngest Stark was about to go full tantrum, and only Catelyn could calm him down from that. Rickon would scream the house down before Catelyn could come back, and if she had to return she'd likely stay home for the whole night, something Sansa did not want to happen. How could she calm Rickon down? Panic started to set in as she saw the first tear fall from the little boys face and was about to say something, the first thing to come to mind to calm him-when Petyr spoke up. 

"How about I read you a story tonight?" 

Rickon blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected a man who was practically a stranger to him to offer to read him a bedtime story. 

"But... What if you don't read it right?" Rickon was still trying to find faults for every option he was given. 

"Then we can always ring up your mother, I'm sure she could excuse herself to tell you a story if you find mine unsatisfactory," 

Petyr smiled at the young boy who seemed satisfied, rolling back over on the carpet to watch the bright colours on the screen. 

Sansa sat back down in her spot on the couch, and Petyr followed, seating himself right next to her. So close that she could feel his thighs brushing against her own, and her cheeks involuntarily flushed. 

"How has college been?" He asked, making pointless small talk, as if the last time he'd seen her nothing remarkable had happened. 

That thought actually worried Sansa a little. Maybe it was nothing remarkable, and she was right in thinking that she was blowing things out of proportion. Her own feelings towards the man had clouded her judgement of situations (not to mention the man was married!) and he probably thought she was just a stupid little girl. She was a stupid little girl. 

As for college, it hadn't been too great the past few days. Some girl from an unheard of family has started spreading rumours about Sansa, jealous of her high status and close friendship with Margaery Tyrell. It was stupid things that were being said, that she had fucked some public school scum and that she'd contracted a disease from him- but some people actually believed it! Especially Joffrey. Many left her alone because Margaery was furious in defending her friend, but no one dared to stand up to a Baratheon-Lannister. 

On top of all this, Sansa's grades had been dropping slowly but surely. She didn't dare tell her parents as they'd be furious, but her Religious Education teacher Sister Mordane told her that if she carried on the way she was going, then she was going to get a phone call home. 

"College is fine," she lied. 

Petyr looked at her. He knew she was lying. No words came from the man, but he placed a comforting hand on top of her knee. She hated what this man did to her, how he made her cheeks blush and her heart pound. She didn't want this, she never asked for this. She knew he was dangerous and that he could get her into so much trouble and yet she didn't care. Wanting him was the only thing that mattered to her. Shouldn't she have better morals than this? A girl who went to church every Sunday and grew up around such a catholic family shouldn't want the things that she wanted. Sansa Stark wanted this sinner. 

They sat like that for a little while, the only noise in the room was Rickon's rustling around on the rug and the buzz of the television. Sansa could have stayed in that moment forever, Petyr's thumb had started rubbing softly against her knee. The gentle movements felt electric against her, even through the material of her tights, and she swore she could have exploded with emotions if it hadn't been ruined by the girl that always ruined everything. 

"MUM, WHAT'S FOR DINNER IM STARVING," Arya's voice shouted, able to be heard throughout the house. She crashed into the living room a moment later; Petyr quickly removed his hand from Sansa's leg and shifted a little further away from her. 

The young girl who was caked in mud paused when she caught sight of her uncle sitting on the sofa. "Oh, you're here," she stated bluntly. It almost amazed Sansa at how little Arya could care. 

"Yes, your mother left a little while ago," Petyr seemed unfazed by Arya's rude tone; had he experienced it before? 

"Typical she didn't say bye," Arya muttered, and Sansa found herself agreeing. Sure, her parents were busy, rich people, but sometimes it seemed to Sansa that they could at least try to make a little more effort for their kids. It's not that they didn't care, they just always had something to do or somewhere to be. 

"Anyway Petyr, the question still applies to you. When are we eating I'm bloody starving!" 

"Arya!" Sansa snapped, annoyed at her rudeness.

"What?" Her sibling asked defensively. 

"Have some manners for once, Petyr is our guest!" 

"Shut up Sansa, we don't all have a stick up our arse like you do!" 

"Now now, there's no need for an argument," Petyr soothed before Sansa could either retort or go to hit her sister. "I was thinking, Arya, that we could order a pizza for dinner. Does that sound alright?" 

"Pizza!" Rickon yelled, jumping up from the rug and hopping around the room in celebration. 

"Oh yes! Thanks Petyr you're amazing!" Arya joined in with Rickon's excitement. 

Petyr smirked, obviously pleased with how well he was handling things so far. Sansa never would have guessed that he liked children, and if he didn't he certainly got on well with them. 

"I'm gonna go tell Bran!" Arya explained, before rushing out the room. Rickon chased after her, the sound of his bare feet padding along the wooden floors growing softer as the siblings ran into the conservatory. 

"You'd think that you kids have never had pizza in your life," Petyr laughed. 

"Well we haven't, not really. Mum and dad have a really big agenda on healthy eating, so we very rarely get any sort of takeaway food." 

"Jesus, you really do live in a typical Mormon house, no wonder those kids are so crazy," He teased. 

"You shouldn't let her speak to you like that, though," Sansa told him. 

"Sansa, it's fine-really," he chuckled, a sound that almost made Sansa actually swoon, "she's like a wild wolf, there's a small chance that anyone'll be able to tame her. Besides, she's a young girl. I've had many more people speak to me much worse than she has," 

Arya and Rickon returned, with Bran pushing the wheels in his chair behind them. Arya handed a takeaway pizza pamphlet (that she kept in her room for when she spent those rare full days home alone) and the home phone to Petyr. 

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone so exited as you three look right now, let alone over something such as food," Petyr joked. 

'Except perhaps Lysa on your wedding day, Petyr' Sansa thought, 'I remember just how she looked, and just how bored you looked in comparison.' 

"If you'd gone months and months without pizza you'd understand Petyr," Arya told him, her tone deadly serious. 

He let them have a pizza each (something Catelyn would never allow, it was always at least one between two) and ordered immediately after they'd all decided what they wanted. Sansa couldn't help but notice he'd only ordered four. 

"Aren't you eating?" She asked, not being able to help the concern for his wellbeing laced into her voice. 

"I'm not overly fond of pizza if I'm honest. I have already eaten this evening though, so there's no need to worry yourself," 

Sansa looked away abashed. So he had noticed the concern in her voice. 

"How do you not like pizza? It's the bestest food in the world!" Rickon exclaimed. 

Petry chatted with the kids as they waited for their pizza to arrive. He was so natural at speaking with the children, he seemed to know exactly what to say to each of them. Sansa had never known her siblings to open up like they were to someone who they'd only met briefly a handful of times. How he was so good at this baffled Sansa, and she cursed him for giving her more traits that attracted her to him. 

Sansa couldn't help but feel a little left out. All of Petyr's attention was focused on keeping the younger kids happy, and she couldn't help but crave even a little of it. 

The pizza came quicker than expected, which actually shut the kids up. They ate in silence for a little while. Arya and Rickon curled up on the rug and Bran had transferred himself onto the giant swivel chair in the corner with help from Sansa, where he sat with Summer curled up next to him. Petyr still sat next to Sansa, and she was thankful that he had closed the distance between them, even if it was just by a little. 

"Can we watch a film?" Bran piped up. 

"Why not? What do you want to watch?" Petyr asked. 

"Scooby doo!" Rickon exclaimed. 

"No, I want to watch the hunger games!" Arya complained. 

"Why don't we ask Bran what he wants to watch, since he was the one who suggested a film?" Petyr suggested. 

"Um... How about tangled?" He said shyly, clearly embarrassed by his choice. Theon often teased Bran for being 'too girly' which lead the boy to have more insecurities than he already had with being a cripple. 

"Good choice Bran!" Sansa said, before Rickon could make any comment. Little Rickon liked to act just like the older boys around the house did, and had annoyingly picked up Theon's trait of making fun of whoever he could. 

She put the DVD in the player and neither Arya nor Rickon complained, as Jon had just come down the stairs ready to leave for his night shift and they (as they did every night) were making a big show of seeing him off. 

"Bye Jon!" Rickon was shouting as he hugged the older boy's leg. Arya actually loved her half-brother enough to sacrifice a slice of her pizza for him. Jon shifted awkwardly when he saw Petyr sitting there, he wasn't the most socially apt member of the household, especially when it came to Catelyn's side of the family. 

"Uh, thanks for looking after the kids Mr Baelish," Jon said. 

"It's not a problem, Jon. Sorry that you had to miss out on pizza," 

It took Jon a little while to peel Rickon off his leg and appease Arya by promising to play football with her the next day before he left. The Stark kids plus Petyr sat rather quietly whilst the film was playing, even Rickon didn't fidget through it. 

Lady padded into the room and sat at her mistress' heel, earning a quick scratch on the back of her ear. When Sansa turned she saw that-without her noticing-Petyr had leaned over and taken a piece of her pizza. 

"I thought you said you didn't like pizza!" Sansa said, swatting him playfully on the arm. 

"I said I wasn't overly fond of it, there's a difference sweetling. Besides, if Arya can give up a piece of pizza I'm sure you can too," 

Sansa childish stuck her tongue out at him as he took a bite out of the slice he had stolen, causing him to smirk at her. 

The evening went along pretty well, Sansa was thankful for the company of Petyr, it seemed as though he had tamed the wolf children fairly well. It was one of those moments that seemed perfect, as she sat next to Petyr, with him lightly tracing patterns across her legs that had somehow found themselves across his lap, her favourite Disney movie playing in the background and getting no hassle from Rickon or even Arya... But no moment ever stayed perfect for long. 

The light of her phone screen drew her attention to the side of the couch where it lay, and she picked it up to see the notification. A message from Sera. 

'Sera?' She thought, 'Sera hardly ever messages me unless we've got plans...' 

Sansa unlocked the phone to see what Sera had texted her. 

'Sansa, I'm so sorry I really didn't want to upset you especially not with the party tomorrow... but I got added to this group chat Joffrey made and I swear I didn't say anything I'm only still in it to see what they're saying and I though you should take a look at this. Again, I'm so sorry, if I can do anything to cheer you up then I will xxx' 

She clicked on the screenshots that Sera had provided with her message. It took all of her strength not to burst out into tears right there. That little Lannister shit had made a group chat and added most of his friends list just to say horrible things about her. People that she thought were her friends. God, she was so stupid to have thought that she was actually popular. Aside from Maragery, Sera and Mira, she had no friends at Kings Landing. She read though a few of the messages. 

'She really thinks she's pretty but honestly she's even less of a beauty than the law tutor, Brienne' 

'I don't get why Margaery hangs out with her?? She's literally so pathetic'

'I can't believe you used to date her Joff, she fucking gave her v card to some public school bastard!' 

'Have you seen her Facebook photos? Honestly so cringey, she thinks she's so hot but she's just not lol!' 

Sansa could feel the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Tears of both anger and sadness. She glanced at the clock through misty eyes. It was only 7, but she refused to let them see her cry. Not Bran, Rickon or Arya, and especially not Petyr. 

"I'm going to bed," she announced, her dog standing up as she did. 

"Sansa?" Petyr asked, the concern in his voice only making the tears come faster. 

"Goodnight," she said as she turned to leave the room, Lady at her heels. She hoped that the crack in her voice wasn't noticeable. 

When she got to her room, she peeled off her dress and left it there on the floor not even bothering to hang it up. After slipping on her mint coloured nightie she crawled underneath her bedsheets in her shared bedroom, Lady joining her. Sansa pulled the dog into a close embrace as she cried herself to sleep. 

 

\----------

When Sansa awoke the room had gotten much darker. Her face was still damp from her tears, and the thick fur of her Czechoslovakian Wolf Dog was warm against her side. Glancing around the room, Sansa noticed that Arya had fallen asleep in her respective bed. A look at the clock told Sansa that it was only 9:45, but now that she was awake she'd have a hard time getting back to sleep. 

Lady stayed sleeping when Sansa gingerly slipped out of the bed and tiptoed to the bedroom door that softly creaked when she opened it. The upstairs carpet tickled her bare feet as she moved silently through the quiet house. There wasn't a sound to be heard other than Sansa's own soft breathing. 

She wondered if Petyr was asleep. It was a little early for most adults to be going to bed, Sansa herself tended to go to sleep at 11, but the lasting silence suggested to her that there was no one awake. She passed the guest room on the first floor of the house. The door was closed and Sansa couldn't remember if it had been that way all night. She thought about taking a quick look in, but soon decided that she wouldn't invade on his privacy in case he was in there. 

Still staying silent, Sansa made her way down the flight of stairs leading to the ground floor and navigated her way to the living room. The room was dark and lifeless. Only one lamp had been left on to give a dull illumination, enough light so that Sansa could just about see around the room. 

Since there was no chance of her getting back to sleep for a while after her nap, she pulled over Arya's beanbag from the corner of the room and plonked herself in front of the telly. After grabbing the remote from the side of the couch she flicked on the television to resume watching the film from before. 

Nymeria had been awoken by the sudden presence of noise in what had been a silent house, and joined Sansa in the living room. Sansa put her arm around Arya's dog to bring comfort to herself. She didn't think that she could cry anymore tears, but the harsh feelings of upset and betrayal hadn't left her. A choked sob came from her as she watched the film, wondering what she did wrong, what she did to deserve all these people who she thought were her friends who all hated her. 

As she sat in that dark living room that night, her only friend being her sister's dog, she had never felt so alone. Watching the scenes before her unfold couldn't even let her escape from reality. She tried to focus on the songs and the jokes but all her mind could wander to was the screenshots that Sera had sent her. 

And then just like that, she wasn't alone anymore. 

"I thought it might have been you still up," 

Sansa turned to see Petyr leaning against the doorframe, his usual smirk replaced with a soft smile and his normally hard eyes showing... Concern? 

Neither of them spoke as he made his way into the room and sat down on the couch, patting the space next to him. Gesturing for her to come and joined him. She clumsily stood up and collapsed onto the sofa.

He still offered no words, but silently pulled her into a hug. His hand rubbed her back soothingly as she clung to his body for dear life. The pleasant smell of mint invaded her nose as she buried her face in his neck, and she willed herself not to cry again but this man who was meant to be so awful was treating her so softly that it invoked so many emotions within her and she couldn't help the tears that began flowing freely from her eyes. 

"It's alright," he murmured in her ear, one of his hands moving to her head where he began to stroke her hair softly. 

It took a while for her to stop crying again, but Petyr was so patient with her. Whispering sweet, soothing words into her ear and delicately brushing her hair with his hand. When she finally managed to get herself under control, Petyr reached down to get her a tissue from the side of the couch and handed it to her. 

"Thanks," she muttered as she dabbed at her eyes with the tissue. 

She looked at the man who still had one comforting arm around her, and felt a little embarrassed as she noticed the giant wet patch on one shoulder of the white cotton shirt he was wearing as part of his bedclothes. 

"Sorry I ruined your shirt," 

"Do you really think I care about my shirt right now Sansa? Don't you worry about it." 

"I didn't want to cry in front of you. That's why I left earlier," Sansa admitted. 

"Why?" He asked. 

"Because it's embarrassing! I... I don't want you to think I'm weak," 

"Oh Sansa," he smiled and rubbed her arm, "everybody cries. I've cried, you're father's cried, even Jamie Lannister has cried. I would never think any less of you for showing your emotions sweetling."'

"...when have you cried?" She asked gently, not wanting to delve too deep into his personal life if he wasn't willing. 

"I've cried many times sweet girl, more when I was a boy-admittedly. I think the worst I've ever cried was... When I was hospitalised many years ago. The worst experience I've ever had in my life happened to me in that hospital. And I don't mean my life threatening injuries. I cried for days on end after that incident." 

"What happened?" Sansa shifted closer to the man and wrapped her arms around his stomach, hoping to offer some sort of comfort to the man who was clearly reliving some of his most awful moments due to her question. 

"Perhaps I'll tell you another time, but not now. It's not a pleasant story for me to tell an already upset girl," 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" 

"There's no need for you to apologise, Sansa. What happened in the past, happened." 

She didn't know what to say. All she could think of was to be sorry for wherever had happened to him, but he had told her not to apologise. So they silently sat for a few more minutes, Sansa's steady breathing syncing with Petyr's as she lay her head upon his chest. 

"What has made you so upset, sweetling? Who did this to you?" He asked. 

"I..." She sighed, "have you ever met a truly sincere person Petyr?" 

He chuckled at her surprising question. 

"I don't think I ever have Sansa. Not in my entire life. We're all liars here in London. Especially the kids and their families from that fancy Kings Landing private school you go to," 

"Yeah. They are all liars, aren't they?" 

"What happened Sansa? What did they do?"

"They all hate me there Petyr," 

"Oh Sansa I'm sure that's not-" 

"They do Petyr, I know they do because I've seen what they say about me. They all pretend to be my friend, speak to me in class, compliment me if I do something new with my hair, but that's not how they really feel. They hate me. They talk about how I'm ugly and pathetic and annoying and a whore and they make up rumours about me that they all believe and I'm left as the laughing stock of the school. I don't understand what I did wrong, why do they hate me so much? I'm no different than Margaery and they love her-what does she have that I don't? I have nowhere that I feel wanted! At home I don't even get a second look most of the time. Dad's always working and mum's always fussing over Robb because he's the eldest, or Rickon because he's the youngest, or Bran because of his chair, or Arya because she's a troublemaker. That's why she's so difficult you know? Because the only way she can get attention from our parents. I never get any attention because I'm just me! I don't get it; because I'm rich do I have to be surrounded by shitty people? It's awful I'm either at school being seen as a giant joke or at home where nobody looks at me!" 

Sansa was out of breath by the end of her spiel, sat fully upright and facing her uncle. She hadn't meant to rant to the man like she had and she felt exceedingly embarrassed of herself. This wasn't how she was supposed to act. Charming and lovely and polite is how she was supposed to act. 

"I'm sorry Petyr I didn't mean to-" 

"I'm here," the older man interjected as he cupped her face with his hand, "I'm looking at you," 

The comment would have made Sansa overjoyed she hadn't been so bitter and full of raw emotion in that moment. All she could think of was the negative, and that wretched, awful jealous that was burning inside her after seeing the exchange between Petyr and her mother. 

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. 

"Is it me you're looking at, I wonder? Or are you seeing someone else when you look at me and my Tully-red hair?" 

She bit her lip and looked away, ashamed at the words she had just spoken. Not being able to bear looking at him. She stood up and walked towards the door, past Nymeria who had fallen asleep on the beanbag which Sansa had been sitting on. 

"Sansa," his voice and the hand on her wrist stopped her in her tracks. "Look at me," he commanded. She did as she was told. 

"I believe I still owe you a big of information, from last week. Margaery... She told me that you've been developing feelings for your uncle," 

Sansa's eyes widened and her cheeks reddened, yet again not being able to look at the man who now knew her secret. Sure, Margaery may have been drunk at that party but she still should have known better than to tell Petyr! 

Sansa made to protest against the comment but was silenced by Petyr stepping forward and kissing her forehead. His lips lingered against her skin for a little while before he whispered, "you should get yourself to bed, sweetling. I wouldn't want you being tired at your party tomorrow." 

She dared a glance at her uncle to find his expression unreadable. After exhaling a breath she didn't know she was holding, she moved quietly up the stairs. Lingering on the first floor. 

What drove her to do it, she didn't know. But for some reason she found herself drifting towards the guest bedroom. 

Petyr arrived upstairs less than a minute after she had left the living room, and Sansa looked right at him as he paused in the doorway; seeing his niece under the covers of the bed he was supposed to be sleeping in. Sansa was expecting him to kick her out for her rash actions. Instead, she held her breath as he slowly walked closer to the bed. Pulling the sheets back Petyr slipped under the covers with her. He didn't touch her, but they were close, so close. 

His actions spoke louder than any of the words he didn't say to her. 

It was hours later when he spoke to her, when he thought that she was asleep. 

"You're more beautiful than she ever was,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I fuck it up? I hope I didn't since this has been a chapter I've been planning since I started this story! Hope you're all ready for the next chapter because I'm planning on making it even better than this one! Thanks for reading!


	10. Not Like An Uncle Should

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter I got carried away with and had to split into two parts. Oh well, more anticipation I suppose.   
> Also sorry to the people who've been waiting for this, I recently wrote the first chapter for my new story before I wrote this :)

When Sansa awoke the bed was empty. 

She sat up slowly, looking around the room for any sign of the man she had spent the previous night with. His night clothes had been neatly folded on top of a bag that he had brought with all of his overnight essentials in and his phone sat on the bedside table. At least he hadn't left yet. 

The sun was shining brightly through the partly open curtains, giving Sansa the impression that it was late into the morning. She rolled over on her side to check the time on Petyr's phone. 10:58. Sansa paid no mind to the messages viewable on his lock screen as she quickly scrambled out of the bed. He would be leaving fairly soon. Her parents hadn't given a specific time for their return home, but if it was already that late then Sansa had hardly anytime at all to spend with her uncle before he would have to leave. 

Her ballet-trained feet were silent as she moved quickly to the dining room, hoping to find the man there. She was not disappointed. 

Petyr sat at the breakfast bar with Arya, who was telling Petyr some boring tale with her mouth stuffed with pancakes. 

"Good morning Sansa," Petyr greeted her as she edged into the room, "I trust you slept well?" 

"Yes, thank you uncle," she answered politely. 

He stood as she approached, offering her the seat that he had been sitting in, which she took gratefully. A quick nod and smile were given to him in thanks. Petyr moved to the kitchen through the archway that linked the two rooms. 

"What would you like for breakfast?" He called to her. 

"Oh, just some cereal would be fine, thanks," She replied, a little confused as to why she was smiling stupidly to herself at the thought of him doing something as simple as making her breakfast. 

"Where where you last night?" Arya questioned. Sansa's smile was wiped from her face as her fifteen year old sister 'accidentally' spat pancake residue on her face whilst asking the question. 

As Sansa went to wipe the wet mush off her face with a tissue she paused. What would she tell Arya? She had forgotten that she shared a room with her sister when she had crawled into Petyr's bed last night. 

'Think you idiot!' She thought to herself, as the feeling of Petyr's eyes on her made her stomach churn with nervousness. 'Make up a lie, impress him!' 

"I slept in the guest room," Sansa began truthfully. 

"But Petyr slept there," Arya stated. 

"Actually, he slept on the couch," Sansa prayed that he had woken up before the other Starks who sat in the room, so that none of them could find the contradiction in her story. "Last night after you came upstairs I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. I went downstairs to watch some TV but I fell asleep down there. I was still half asleep when I felt uncle Petyr carrying me upstairs so I don't really remember much, but he tucked me into bed where he was meant to be sleeping, and when I asked him where he would sleep he told me he didn't mind sleeping on the couch. It was very kind of him." 

"But why didn't he tuck you into your own bed? Surely that would make more sense." Arya argued, trying to find flaws in her already shifty story. 

"Well I can't imagine I'm overly light for a tall seventeen year old, I wouldn't expect him to carry me all the way to the top of the house. I'm sure he was concerned about waking you up as well," Sansa gave her sister a smile as the girl went back to her pancakes in silence, unable to find any more faults in what she was being told, no matter how dodgy it was sounding to her. 

Petyr walked over with Sansa's breakfast and gave the girl a proud smirk which make Sansa's heart swell. She could do this, she could play his games. 

The rest of her breakfast was ate in silence. Arya focused intensely on shovelling food into her mouth, annoyed at her sister for whatever she wasn't being told, Bran and Rickon were enjoyed the cartoons playing out on the dining room television and Petyr sat by them, reading the newspaper and occasionally stealing a glance at his niece. Sansa returned the glances as she ate, hoping to speak with him about the words that they had both spoken the previous night. 

All hope of such a conversation was shattered when the turn of a key could be heard from the front door, and Ned, Robb and Catelyn Stark returned home. 

"Mum!" Rickon yelled, and ran to the front door to attack his mother with hugs and kisses. 

Arya and Bran followed a little slower, slightly less eager than their nine year old brother to greet their parents but eager nonetheless. Petyr and Sansa didn't move to the hall but instead stayed in the dining room, looking at each other. Sansa stood as Petyr began to move towards her. 

"It seems as though I'll be leaving in a moment," he spoke softly and quietly, "remember what I told you last night. I'm looking at you, Sansa." 

Before she could speak he was kissing her softly. As much as Sansa wanted to kiss him back all she could do was freeze on the spot. What was he thinking? Her parents were mere meters away and had he forgotten what had happened last time he had kissed her on the lips? And this kiss was far from chaste, with his lips moving slowly against her own she could feel the passion behind it and knew that this was no kiss that should be happening between uncle and niece. 

Before she could throw her better judgement to the wind and succumb to Petyr's body, he removed himself from her. She could still feel the warmth of him inside her body and couldn't help but look straight into those unmoving grey-green eyes as she wondered just what what running through that man's mind. 

"I'll see you soon, sweetling," was all that he said before walking to greet her parents and leaving her standing confused and alone. It was more of a promise than a statement. 

\----------

Sansa was dropped off at Margaery Tyrell's house at 6 o'clock to get ready for the party. The girls sat in the middle of the youngest Tyrell's bedroom floor, doing their hair and makeup for her Christmas party. School would be finishing the next week, and according to Sera it had become tradition for Margaery to throw a huge Christmas party at the most lavish venue nearby when she went to Highgarden school for girls. The tradition had carried on when she had transferred to K.L. private school, and this would be the second Tyrell Christmas party being held in London. 

"I'm so excited to see everyone there! This is the biggest party I've ever thrown, I had to ask Loras for help! He was the one that recommended the venue and we went there on a night out a few weeks ago and I have to tell you Sansa it is a-mazing there... You aren't speaking very much tonight babe, are you alright?" 

"I'm fine," Sansa mumbled. She was, of course, less than fine. After learning how most people who would be at the party actually felt about her, she had become less and less eager to attend. 

"Has something happened Sansa? Seriously I've not seen you this down in ages. Did something happen with Petyr last night?" She gasped. 

"No, no." Although something definitely had happened with her uncle, but it was far from unpleasant. 

"Then what is it hun? I don't want you to be upset at the party tonight, please let me help I don't like seeing you upset. Whatever has happened, I'm your best friend Sansa and I'll do whatever I can to make it right. Please, tell me." 

The hurt in Margaery's eyes at the sight of her best friend's sadness made Sansa feel even worse that she was bringing her down too. 

"Really Margaery it's just something silly, I'll cheer up I promise," 

"It's not silly if it's upset my best friend! Whoever has said anything will get a serious arse-kicking from me tonight!" 

"Then you'll have a lot of arses to kick," Sansa muttered. 

"Tell me who, babe," Margaery insisted. 

Sansa sighed and picked up her phone that lay on the floor charging. After unlocking it she brought up the messages from Sera that she had received last night and handed the phone over to Margaery. 

The young girl watched her friend's face slowly twist into a furious expression as she read the messages. When she finished, she threw the phone down on her pink carpet floor, causing Sansa to jump. 

"How dare they!" She yelled, "they're all nasty, horrible, two-faced cows who I'll never be speaking to again. It's not true Sansa, none of it's true. You're kind, and wonderful and so pretty and the best friend I could ever wish for and I don't know why they would say things like that apart from out of jealousy. It's all that stupid fucking Joffrey's fault. Ugh I hate him! I- I think I have an idea of how to make things better. I'll try and sort this out tonight in front of all of them because nobody insults my best friend!" 

Sansa was almost overwhelmed by her friend's compassionate response. Margaery had always been kind to Sansa, but she had almost forgotten how much care the older girl truly held for her. Not only was she kind and beautiful but she was loyal and stuck up for her close friends and family. She had never had a friend like Margaery Tyrell before, and she couldn't ask for someone better. 

"Thank you Margaery, really thank you. Just having you on my side is more than enough for me, you don't have to try and do anything really. I don't want you to do anything that might harm your reputation," Sansa told the girl as she was pulled into a hug that smelled of roses. 

"Sod my reputation! I'll be leaving K-Hell by July for uni anyway, and I hardly talk to many of the arseholes who claim to be my friends. Who needs them when I have you? You're like a sister to me Sansa I'd do anything for you," 

"And I'd do anything for you too," Sansa murmured into the girl's shoulder. "I'm sorry but, do you mind if we talk about something else?" She asked as she pulled away from her friend, not wanting to keep the conversation on a down note. 

"Of course! Turn around so I can get doing your hair by the way," 

Sansa shuffled so that she was practically sat on Margaery's lap as she began to brush her long red hair. "Tell me about last night! With Petyr and all that. Talking about him will make you feel better," Margaery insisted. 

The younger girl could almost hear the smirk in her friend's voice. "You just love hearing gossip Margaery Tyrell," Sansa teased. 

"That as it may be, he will make you feel better. So spill!" The Tyrell laughed. 

"Alright, alright," Sansa sighed, "so he came round right, and I'd actually put quite a lot of effort into making myself look nice for him but then he like, goes straight to my mother and... Is it bad to get jealous of my mother? And my auntie as well I guess,"

"No, I don't think so! I mean I've never been jealous of my mother for those particular reasons but I get really jealous all the time when we go out to parties and she's forever getting compliments off men and I never get that! I only get pathetic horny teenage boys asking me for nudes on snapchat. So don't worry, we all get jealous sometimes-it's natural!" Maragery assured her, "he did have a thing for her when they were kids too, didn't he? So it's not without good reason. I'd be super jealous if I were you."

"Thanks Marg," Sansa told her friend with a smile, "anyway, so after my parents left we talked for a bit, not about much really but he was really nice and sweet and he made me feel better about the whole... The screenshots that Sera sent me. But he's just so nice to me Margaery. I know he's an arsehole to like-everyone, but he's not like that with me I just... Maybe if he didn't give two shits about me I wouldn't be crushing on him, but here I am." 

She decided to omit the part about her completely losing her head and just straight ranting at the man. As much as her friend wouldn't judge her for it, Sansa didn't want anyone seeing any weakness or faults in her, not even Margaery. 

"Well Sansa you never know. It could be all a crush that blows over, but what if you actually get lucky with him?" Margaery giggled as she pulled up a third of Sansa's hair to braid it.

"I wish! Although... Marg can I tell you something?" 

"What is it?" 

"You have to promise not to tell anyone," 

"I swear it, what happened Sansa?" 

"I kind of... Slept in his bed last night," 

"What, with him in it?" 

"Yeah," Sansa mumbled, ashamed at herself as she realised just what she had done-realisation hitting her hard after admitting the secret out loud. 

There was a brief moment of silence in which neither of them said anything as Margaery processed what she had just been told. Sansa was glad she was facing the other way so that her friend couldn't see her face burn with embarrassment. 

"Oh my God Sansa!" Margaery squealed with happiness for her friend. Sansa exhaled a breath of relief that she had been holding in, in fear of judgement. "Did you-" 

"No! No, he didn't touch me," Sansa interrupted Margery's question. "At least not in the bed," she mumbled to herself as an afterthought. 

"What was that?" Margaery asked. 

"Nothing!" Sansa squeaked. 

"Sansa Stark you tell me right now what you did with that man," Margaery giggled.

"He... He kissed me this morning." 

"You mean like a proper kiss?" 

"Well it didn't last that long but it was really..." Sansa searched for a word. 

"Hot? Sexy? Passionate?" Margaery offered. 

"For lack of a better word," Sansa laughed. 

"Babe you're getting quite serious with this man!"

"He's still married," she sighed, "and I'm still 17." 

"Not technically a minor in this country," Margaery reasoned, before standing up and pulling Sansa with her. She reached for a hand mirror that had been left lying on the floor for when they had been doing their makeup previously that night, and handed it to Sansa. 

"I love it," Sansa beamed as she looked at the elegant braids that twisted into a bun at the back of her head, "you'll have to teach me how to do hair properly I always have to get someone to do it for me. Speaking of which do you want me to do yours?" 

"No, don't worry about it Sansa. I'll just leave it down I think." Margaery glanced at the clock hung from her wall. "Shit! It's half seven already, we need to hurry up get changed to be there for eight," 

Sansa rushed to her small overnight suitcase she had brought to the Tyrell's house and rummaged around for her party dress (a much shorter one than what she had worn to Robert Baratheon's party). She slipped out of her casual sweat pants and vest top to change as Margaery rummaged around in her wardrobe for her outfit for the evening. Neither of the girls cared about seeing the other in their underwear, or even naked, another sign of just how close they'd become in almost a year and a half. 

Sansa slipped into the dress that she had chosen specifically for the party. It was sleeveless with a ruffled skirt, stopping midway up her thigh. The colour of it was a dark purple, almost grey, with black velvet swirls travelling around her body. It wasn't a colour much seen down south, with all of their bright blues and ravishing reds. It was a much more northern colour, fitting for a winter party and fitting for a Stark to wear too. 'Winter is coming', that was her family motto. 

Margaery had chosen a dress as crisp and white as the snow that wasn't falling down in London, but most likely was up in York where Sansa grew up. It was tight fitting and had silver roses intricately designed onto the fabric, and she looked more beautiful than Sansa could ever hope to look. 

"Seriously though about Petyr," Sansa spoke up as she dressed, "as much as I don't want to think it, I doubt I even have half a chance with him." 

"Why not? You're a beautiful young lady whom he's clearly shown an interest in. I'm sure he'd much rather have you warming his bed than your aunt. Let's see how tonight goes shall we?" 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sansa asked as she slipped on a pair of expensive black flats (she was always self conscious about her hight in heels). 

"What does what mean?"

"What you just said!" 

"I... Honestly don't remember what I just said!" The girl laughed. 

"You-" Sansa sighed, deciding it wasn't worth it, "never mind. Are you nearly ready?" 

"Yep!" Margaery announced as she stepped into her heels, "let's go, I'm sure Loras is waiting for us," 

Maragery grabbed onto her friends arm as they walked down the stairs together. 

"Took you long enough," Loras jested when they reached the bottom. 

"Like you don't spend hours on your hair every day Loras Tyrell," Margaery joked back. 

"Come on or we'll be late to our own party. You both look very nice but the way,"

The two girls thanked him but nothing more. There was a time when Sansa would have gushed and giggled over such a frivolous compliment from Loras Tyrell, but that was before she found out that he much preferred the company of men over woman. In particular her father's business partner, Renly Baratheon. 

During the car ride to the venue, Sansa felt butterflies in her stomach. She was anxious to see all of the liars there who she now knew hated her. Loras chattered on endlessly to the girls in the back seat about his life and his apprenticeship at Baratheon Throne Co. and all the wonderful and crazy parties he'd been to recently. Quite frankly Sansa couldn't care less, with her own problems to deal with. She had noticed, recently, that the boy who she had once cared so much about was actually rather self centred. Not unkind but perhaps a little unaware of others around him. 

The city and bright lights of London's night life swept past Sansa as she gazed out of the window of Loras Tyrell's sleek black car. Margaery placed a hand over Sansa's own that had been pushing down her weight with anxiousness on the middle seat of the car. 

"It's okay," she whispered, "you'll be fine. We'll have a great time and no one will say anything to you I promised." 

All Sansa could do is nod and offer a weak smile. She felt as if she would be sick if she opened her mouth. Perhaps she shouldn't have eaten all those lemon cakes that her friend had offered to her. 

Despite it all, Maragery's words did comfort her for a moment and Sansa found herself relaxing a little. Her weight shifted back to her centre and her other hand that had been tapping nervously on the windowsill slid down to rest on her knee. It wasn't until the car pulled up that her whole body tensed. The sign above the extremely important looking establishment read a name that Sansa had recently become rather familiar with. 

The Silver Mockingbird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy I can't wait for the next chapter. Margaery and Sansa having a great friendship is what I live for to be honest. Also tomorrow I break up for summer so I'll have more time to write, yay! (Also I'm so sorry to be a pain plugging all my social media but I have a game of thrones/Aidan Gillen and Sophie Turner tumblr now if anyone cares which is @hoorayforthequeeninthenorth) thanks for reading!


	11. Pretty Amazing Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. This took forever to write, I hope it was worth it

"Do you know who owns this club?" Sansa whispered to Margaery annoyed, as she stepped out of Loras' car on wobbling legs. Her words were spoken quietly as to not suggest to the older Tyrell that anything was wrong. 

"Your uncle Petyr," Margaery admitted. "You didn't know we were coming here, did you?" 

"No I didn't, you should have warned me Margaery!" 

"I'm sorry, I though it would be a nice surprise... Look, I'll make it up to you okay?" 

"No, it's fine you don't have to. It just- what if he's here Marg? What should I do?" Sansa panicked. 

"It'll be fine Sansa, just do what you always do with him," Maragery laughed. 

"In front of everyone from school? Yeah that'd go down really well wouldn't it. Especially considering the circumstances." 

"He might not even be here. Don't fret hun, I doubt he'd make a move on you in front of everyone even if he is in there. And if he does then no one will remember because everyone is probably already getting drunk or high." 

"I wish I was more prepared for this," Sansa muttered. 

"Are you two done whispering or can we get partying already?" Loras teased. 

"We're coming," Margaery answered. She took Sansa's arm and whispered "you'll be fine, I promise," into her ear yet again, and they walked into the club. 

\----------

It was 11 o'clock and there was still no sign of Petyr. Sansa was almost relieved, as much as she did care for the man she didn't know how she would have communicated with him in the middle of a crowd of her classmates, and if he were to make a move on her like he had that morning right by her parents, the rumours of her being a sex loving whore would never cease. 

Margaery was right about one thing, almost everyone at the party had gotten completely wasted within the first hour. Sansa was one of the few that sat almost completely sober. Despite the fact that she attended many, teenage parties held at clubs were just not really her thing. Her best friend was off drunk, dancing at chatting with all of the guests, leaving Sansa sitting alone at a booth tucked away in a corner. Not that she could be blamed. It was her party after all, and she had been looking forward to it for months, of course she was going to do everything she could to have a great time. No one would want to be stuck in a corner with a nervous, unpopular girl, even if it was their best friend. 

Sansa had lost hope that Margaery was going to try and fix things like she had promised, but again Sansa couldn't blame the drunk girl for it. Perhaps it wasn't the best of places for it anyway. With everyone in the state that they were, no one would even remember anything Margaery did the next day. Sansa still hadn't confronted her friend about her telling Petyr of her feelings for him. In all honesty she didn't know if she would even be able to confront her. As much as she was annoyed at Margaery for telling a secret that wasn't hers to tell, Sansa knew that she couldn't hold it against her friend who had done so much for her. Besides, it seemed to have spurred Petyr on to show more affection to her, which was definitely not a bad thing from Sansa's point of view. 

The party that surrounded her seemed to be as much Loras' as it was Maragery's, which resulted in a lot of uni kids attending as well as the college kids, and the occasional high schooler. A few of the older lads had asked Sansa to dance with them, all saying something along the lines of "what's a pretty thing like you sitting all alone?" Or "no boy on your arm tonight missus? How about we change that?" 

The odd one seemed rather nice, but all of them ended up sneaking their hands up her skirt, and Sansa would have to make up some excuse or another as to why she had to leave. She had taken far too many trips to the bathroom that night. 

Sansa noticed that there were a few other people in attendance that didn't look like students from college or even Loras' uni, but she didn't really want to think about just what their jobs here were. 'Let that be their problem' is what she thought, no matter how young they were. 

All she could hear was the pounding bass of the song (the lyrics were unintelligible despite the loudness) as she tapped her nails on the table in front of her, next to her half full glass that she couldn't be bothered to drink. Sansa didn't drink that much alcohol anyway, and it was certainly no fun drinking on your own. 

She gazed into the crowd that was dancing wildly on the dance floor (a much different one than the ballroom from last week) and noticed that the only things present in the guests were lust and intoxication. How simple people became when they were wasted at a party. Sansa was studying the guests so closely that she didn't even see a young man slip into the opposite side of the booth. 

"Hi," he shouted over the far too loud music. 

Sansa whipped around in confusion to find a blonde boy she had never seen before in her life sitting across from her. 

"Hello?" She responded with confusion.

"Sorry if I startled you, my name's Olyvar-" he held out a hand for her to shake "-I work for your uncle." 

"Oh," was all she could think to say. 

"Your name is Sansa right?" The boy asked.

"Yes... How did you know that?" 

"I've heard a lot about you from Mr Baelish," he shrugged, "you seem to have made quite the impression on him." 

"What do you mean?" 

"He talks about you a lot is all. Not a day goes by where I don't hear 'Sansa this', or 'Sansa that,'" Olyvar laughed, but not in a cruel way, "if he wasn't married I'd say he sounded like a love struck teenager," 

"So are you like, his PA then?" 

"I guess you could say that. But mostly I'm am errand boy, running round doing odd jobs for Littlefinger-" 

"Littlefinger?" 

"You've never heard anyone call him Littlefinger before?" 

Sansa giggled, "I've heard my father mention the name once or twice before, but I didn't know it was Uncle Petyr," 

"Don't let him hear you laugh at that name little miss," Olyvar warned, "no matter how fond of you he is Littlefinger doesn't take kindly to people mocking him." 

"I wasn't mocking him, I was only-" 

"Look, don't worry about it. Regardless, what's the boss' niece doing sitting all on her own at a wild party like this?" 

"Parties like this aren't really my thing," Sansa admitted, "and the only people who have bothered with me so far have been stupid boys who just want to shove their hands up my skirt." 

"Do you want me to sort them out?" The boy offered, "I know don't look like much but I make a mean bouncer," 

"No, it's fine," Sansa laughed, "but I'm sure you wouldn't have a problem beating up a 6 foot 5 rugby player," 

Olyvar chuckled at that, "well seeing as I can't allow Mr Baelish's niece to get harassed by any more 6 foot 5 rugby players, do you mind if I keep you company?" 

"Not at all! I'd be glad for it if I'm honest," 

"Well it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss Stark. Do you want me to get you a drink?" 

"I think I'm okay, thanks," 

Sansa talked with Olyvar for a little while and found the boy to be quite charming. The sort that Sansa would have crushed on a few years back. He kind of reminded her or Loras, actually. Perhaps he was interested in men too. 

They didn't really talk about much. Mostly small talk, basic trivia about the club, all that boring shit that you talk about with a person that you've only just met. He was nice though, and seemed to be a loyal employee of her uncle. Maybe if they were to meet again then Sansa could make a friend out of him. 

Looking around at the club, it was actually a very nice place. She was finding it hard to believe what Tyrion Lannister had told her, but if that was the case then why didn't Petyr deny it? And Mr Lannister had no reason to lie to her. Sansa wondered in Olyvar might be an... Escort too. But she didn't dare ask him in fear of offending him. 

Her question was answered though, when none other than Loras Tyrell approached the table. 

"Ol! I see you've met Sansa Stark," 

"Yes I've been keeping her company since she's been sat here on her own, I didn't know that you knew her Loras," 

"Sansa and Margaery are practically inseparable," Loras laughed, "listen, I'm sorry to interrupt but I was wondering if you're working tonight?" 

So he was an escort. But... wasn't Loras dating Renly Baratheon?

"If you need me I'm available Mr Tyrell," Olyvar told him as he stood from his seat with a flirtatious smile, before turning back to Sansa. "I'm sorry our meeting has been cut short Miss Stark, but I'm sure we'll meet again," 

Olyvar gave her a kind smile and a quick hug before beginning to walk off with Loras. 

"Wait, Ol!" Sansa called after the boy, walking as quickly as her heels allowed her too. 

"What can I do for you?" He turned and asked. 

Sansa asked the question that had been on the tip of her tongue all night: "is he here?" 

Olyvar glanced quickly at Loras before stepping closer to Sansa, enabling him to whisper in her ear. "He's in his office. Go to the stairs and tell the bouncers your name, they'll let you up. Go straight down the hall to your right and you'll find a lift at the end. The code is 031196 and press the button for the fourth floor. You'll know his office when you see it." 

Ol pulled away and smiled at her. "I'll see you around, Sansa Stark." And with that he turned and walked towards said stairs arm in arm with Loras Tyrell. 

Sansa stood there for a moment, taking in the information she had just been told. So he was here, but why would he be? It was only some silly teenage party that he wasn't even downstairs for, and he had other employees to look after the place. She suddenly remembered the promise that he had made to her that morning: "I'll see you soon, sweetling." 

But surely he couldn't be here just for her? And was he counting on her to ask Ol that question so she could find him? Maybe the best thing to do was to stop questioning things and just go and find her uncle. And so she made her way towards the set of wooden polished stairs. Her legs shook in fear as she slowly approached the two huge bouncers. 

"Sorry missy, you're not allowed up here," one of them spoke in an impossibly low voice after looking her up and down. 

"My name is Sansa Stark," she squeaked, annoyed at how pathetic her voice sounded, "I was told I'd be able to find my uncle's office up here? Mr Baelish?" 

The two burly men looked at each other and murmured a few words that Sansa couldn't make out, before wordlessly parting to let her past. 

"Thank you," she mumbled as she began to ascend the staircase. 

The club looked even more elegant upstairs. A classy red carpet donned the floor matched with black wallpaper made the place feel ever so elegant considering what the place was. Sansa walked to her right as she had been instructed and looked around almost in wonder at how beautiful the place was. 

When thinking of a brothel she expected filth and dirt, cigarettes littering the floor and trampy girls with unbrushed hair and messy makeup leaning up against the walls. But this place looked like a high end hotel, the type that Sansa might stay in if she was to spend a weekend in the city with friends or family. 

No expenses had been spared on this place, even the lift was classy. Made out of glass with futuristic looking buttons attached to it, Sansa began to wonder if aunt Lysa knew about this place and if she did, did she know what it really was? Because if Sansa didn't know better, she definitely wouldn't be able to tell what went on behind closed doors here. 

She tapped in the code: "031196" and wondered if those numbers meant anything to her uncle. Sansa stepped inside and hit the button for the fourth floor, which appeared to be the top. She was eager to know what was on the other two floors, but she supposed she could find that out a different time if she ever decided to visit her uncle again. 

Sansa stepped out of the lift and took in her surroundings. There was only two doors on this floor, one right at the end of the hall, and one in the middle. With gentle steps she made her way towards the end of the corridor, guessing that that room had to be his office. Just the door looked ever so important. 

Time seemed to be moving slower as she approached, and she noticed a small window fitted into the wall where one could watch everything going on in the club from an almost birds eye view. The walls were completely bare apart from that, and unlike the downstairs corridor they were painted cream and matched with a classy wooden floor. 

When Sansa reached the door she knew that he must have been expecting her. She had barely even tapped on the door before she heard his smooth voice call out: "come in," 

She pushed open the door by the silver doorknob to reveal the most impressive looking office Sansa had ever seen. Huge filing cabinets were sat in one corner next to a locked cupboard that Sansa could only guess at what could possibly be inside. On the other side of the room a multitude of expensive looking television screens hung from the wall displaying video feed from... Inside the club? Her eyes widened as she saw one room containing Loras Tyrell and Olyvar fiercely making out whilst undressing each other and Sansa felt the need to look away. The back wall wasn't a wall at all, but three large windows overlooking the stunning view of London's bright lights and city life. Petyr's desk was ever so professional. Everything was in order; papers stacked in neat piles on either side, a desk lamp precisely angled over his work, pen pots completely in line at the top of his desk... Everything you would expect on a normal man's work desk but for some reason to Sansa it felt so much more impressive. 

Behind the desk sat the man himself. Petyr was dressed impeccably, a dark blue suit fitted his body nicely, his silver tie matched his expensive looking cufflinks and not a hair on his head was out of place. His grey-green eyes shone when he saw her. 

"Sansa Stark," he stood and took his blazer off, hanging it on the back of his chair. Baelish walked slowly towards her as she closed his office door behind her. "I was so hoping that you would come and visit me tonight," he kissed her chastely on the cheek as he took her by the hand. She could feel his beard and moustache scratch against her skin and she smiled at the ticklishness of it. "I must say you look lovely tonight, sweetling." He complimented, after his eyes had looked her up and down slowly, drinking in her appearance. 

"Thank you Mr Baelish," she smiled at him.

"Call me Petyr, Sansa" 

"Petyr," she corrected, to his will. "I have to admit I wasn't expecting this place to look this classy," 

"Surprised, are you my dear?" He chuckled, and the sound went straight to her core. She had to suppress the urge to cross her legs over in embarrassment. 

"A little actually, yes." 

"You should know, Sansa, that I never settle for anything but the best," 

"I can see that," she observed as she looked around his office, "you're office is very nice too. I dare say it's even nicer than my own father's study." 

Petyr smirked at her. "I dare say it is. I'm a man with a taste for expensive things."

"I'm not surprised, seeing as you came from a family with nothing. If I were you I'd be buying myself new things all the time." 

Petyr silently ran a hand through her hair that was loose at the back. "Why did you come to see me tonight, Sansa Stark?" He asked. 

"Is it wrong for a girl to want to visit her uncle?" 

"Considering the circumstances, I think most people would answer your question yes." 

"And what circumstances would those be, Petyr?" She smiled at him, feigning innocence as she watched him bite his lip when she put extra emphasis on his name.

"It's near midnight when there's a party going on downstairs and you're up here in your uncles office-the owner of such a shady club might I add-all by yourself. What might an ordinary person think of that hm? And let's not forget where you slept last night. And what Margaery Tyrell told me," 

"If you were that bothered by what Margaery Tyrell told you then you wouldn't have kissed me this morning," 

"I kissed you this morning because of what Margaery Tyrell told me, sweetling." 

"What are you saying?" Sansa asked as her brows furrowed and her heartbeat quickened. Was he really implying what Sansa had been hoping for since the wedding? Did Petyr really want a silly young girl like her? 

"I'm saying, Sansa, that I want you." 

His tone sent shivers down her spine as he took a step forward, leaving the gap between them almost nonexistent. As he leaned in to kiss her, Sansa cursed herself at the question swimming around in her head. A question that she blurted out a fraction of a second before his lips met hers. 

"Why did you marry my aunt Lysa?" 

Petyr froze. "You're really going to ask that at a moment like this?" He let out a breathy laugh. When Sansa didn't reply he sighed. "It's a long story sweetling," 

"I have time," she whispered, looking into his beautiful eyes that were normally so neutral. Sansa was surprised to find that his eyes actually looked nervous. 

"I married your aunt for three things: money, information and revenge. That's all there is to it." 

"Revenge?" Sansa echoed, "what did she-" 

"It's not a story for now, sweet girl." He interrupted, "if you don't want to kiss me then you can just leave you know." 

Sansa shook her head. "I want you," she murmured into his ear. And that was all it took for him to push her against the door frame and connect their lips. Sansa couldn't just smell the mint on the man, but now she could taste it on the man's tongue as he occasionally flicked it into her mouth. He was warm and soft and everything that Joffrey and Ramsay hadn't been. One of his hands caressed her cheek gently and the other was still holding one of her own hands. Sansa moved one of her own hands to grasp at the back of Petyr's shirt, and the with the one holding on to his for dear life, she guided his hand to her lower thigh. She let go of his hand and moved her own to wrap around Petyr's waist. She couldn't help but whimper into his mouth as he slowly dragged his hand up the outside of her thigh, lifting up her skirt as he went and making the skin he touched tingle as if his touch was electric. He rested it at the waistband of her pink underwear, toying with the lace. Sansa blushed as she could feel his half hard erection pressed against her through his pants, causing her own panties to become even more damp than they already had been. 

All of a sudden his mouth was gone and she huffed in annoyance. Didn't he understand that this was all she had wanted ever since she laid eyes on him-why would he stop? She looked up at him to see his pupils heavily dilated and his breathing heavy. Lust was beginning to cloud her judgement, but she was still focused enough to realise that with a look like that, he could only have stopped for a good reason. 

"What time are your parents coming to pick you up?" He asked breathily. 

"They aren't-I'm meant to be staying over at Margaery's-and the Tyrells were going to give me a lift home tomorrow," she managed to get out in between huffs, the kiss leaving them both out of breath. 

Petyr only nodded and took her by the hand, opening the office door and leading her to the only other door on the entire floor. He fumbled around in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a small key, hastily unlocking the door and then locking it behind him after he had pulled himself and Sansa inside. 

"Woah," Sansa involuntarily whispered as she looked around what could only be his room. A king sized bed with red silken sheets sat in the centre of the room. There was an ensuite bathroom, a small kitchen counter with a fridge and some cupboards, a pretty wardrobe with a long mirror next to it and a chest of drawers that had a selection of Petyr's expensive looking cufflinks and rings atop of it. 

"For when I'm working late," Petyr explained, but Sansa was barely paying attention as she drifted towards his bed and sat down on the edge, never breaking eye contact with him as she slipped off her shoes and shuffled further back, creasing the previously impeccably made crimson sheets. 

She hoped that he saw the hunger in her eyes as he moved to stand over her at the edge of his bed. Her legs wrapped loosely around his lower body as her hands reached up to unravel his tie-left discarded on the floor-and unbutton his shirt. The buttons were agonisingly difficult to undo, her breath shaking as more and more of his body was teasingly revealed to her. She didn't notice until she reached his coarse black chest hair, but he had a long scar from naval to collar bone, and once she had undone his whole shirt she saw what could only be from a bullet wound on his right shoulder. 

"Ugly, aren't they?" He muttered as Sansa lightly traced the scar with the tips of her fingers. So gentle it was almost as if she feared hurting him, as if the wound was fresh. 

"How...-" 

"Gifts, from your late uncle Brandon and his friends."

"My uncle Brandon? But why-?" 

"My girl, I promise I'll tell you one day but not right now, please." 

Sansa nodded and pulled the expensive shirt from his shoulders, his whole torso bare to her. She undid his belt agonisingly slow, and let her hands rest at his hips for a moment before prising his pants button open and dragging down the zipper. His slacks fell to his ankles with the help of a little tug from Sansa. The girl bit her lip nervously as her uncle stood in front of her almost naked, and she felt a rush of anxiety as she realised that she didn't feel ready to go all the way just yet. Sansa hadn't expected this to happen tonight of all nights and as much as she was determined to give her uncle her virginity, she wasn't sure if that's what she wanted in that moment. 

As Petyr circled around the bed to unzip the back of her dress, Sansa tried to think of something to say to bring some sort of noise to the painfully silent room. 

"I don't think they're ugly," is what she settled for, as Petyr's steady hands rested against her back. "Why don't you like them?" 

"They make me feel weak," Petyr swallowed. The hand on her zipper pulled it all the way down gently and then moved to her waist as he bent over to place delicate kisses on her lightly freckled back. 

"I think they make you look brave, actually," Sansa told him, swivelling round to face him and leaning in to give him a gentle kiss, her dress falling from her body and to her hips. 

Petyr crawled into the bed and deepened the kiss, pushing Sansa's dress all the way off and tossing it next to his own discarded suit. Her heart raced as Petyr gently lowered her down onto her back at the top of the bed and positioned himself above her, never breaking the kiss. 

The two were only in their underwear, three thin layers that would soon be discarded of and they would be completely exposed to each other. Sansa had never been this passionate with another human being in her entire life, and the thought of being completely exposed to him was beginning to scare her a little, as much as she wanted him. 

His hand crawled up her body and found its way to the back of her bra. Oh god she didn't know if she could do this. The thought of losing her virginity was actually quite frightening to her, especially since she hadn't planned any of this to happen tonight. 

"Petyr," she whispered involuntarily, propping herself up in defence. 

She must have looked scared or nervous because he immediately backed away from her. 

"I'm so sorry, Sansa," he told her in a hushed tone, "I shouldn't have pushed you to do this. I forget... Just how young you are." 

"Petyr no I-" 

"If you want I'll give you a lift home and we can forget this ever happened. I won't hold it against you, sweetling," 

"Petyr! It's not- It's not that I don't want to, I do I want you more than anything. But I'm scared of... losing my virginity," she admitted bashfully, averting her eyes from his. 

Petyr smiled at her kindly, the most genuine expression that she'd ever seen on the man. "That's natural sweetling. In all honesty I wasn't planning on fucking you properly tonight. If you want I can just use my fingers and-" 

Sansa blushed as she found herself shaking her head no. "I um- I've never actually- had anything... inside me before." She explained, focusing her embarrassed gaze on her hand that was gripping his sheets. It was extremely embarrassing for her that at 17 she had never had anything inside her, not even her own fingers when she touched herself. At 13 she had tried to use tampons when she got her period, but couldn't figure out where to put it and ended up giving up entirely when she started to hurt and had never touched the things since. 

"You really are the perfect little virgin, aren't you?" Petyr teased. "Have you never even touched yourself before?" 

"I have!" She protested, "but- only ever on the outside." 

Petyr chuckled and she bit her lip as he made the already damp patch in her underwear even worse. "I'm surprised that the good little Christian daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark is here, in her uncle's bedroom above a nightclub, only in her underwear," he teased, fiddling with the strap on her bra. 

"I don't want to be their good little Christian daughter anymore. That's why I'm here." 

"You want me to corrupt you? Is that it?" 

Sansa nodded and looked at him, to find him with the most sinful smirk upon his face. 

"You enjoy kissing me, don't you Sansa?" He asked. 

She nodded again, unable to find her words as her breathing grew heavier and he crawled closer, planting light kisses on her jaw and moving slowly downwards to her neck. 

"Did you know that a kiss in the right place-" he gave a long suck on her neck, causing her to gasp- "can give a girl the upmost pleasure?" 

Petyr's hands returned to the back of her bra and he made quick work of removing the pretty pink garment and tossing it away. He sat up to take in the sight of her chest and Sansa looked away, embarrassed yet again. She knew that she wasn't as big-chested as other girls like Margaery or even Sera or Mira, but Petyr seemed to be very impressed with what he saw. 

"Beautiful," he murmured, travelling his hand to lightly cup her right breast, flicking his thumb over her hardening nipple, and dipping his head to kiss all over her left one. Sansa couldn't help but let out a small moan at the attention he was giving her, and she brought her hand to her mouth in an attempt to muffle the embarrassing sounds. Petyr reached up and pulled her hand away, holding it firmly in his own. "I want to hear all those beautiful sounds you'll make, sweetling." 

He placed one last kiss on the underneath of her left breast before moving down her body, his lips leaving a damp trail along her slim torso as he dragged himself down to her legs, placing the odd kiss on her stomach as he went. Sansa bent her previously straight legs on instinct as Petyr began to kiss the inside of her thighs, drawing whimpers and causing the pink lace covering her cunt to get embarrassingly wet. 

"Petyr, please," she whimpered as he began to lick and nip at the sensitive skin right next to her pussy. 

"Please what?" He asked, looking up at her and feigning ignorance, the vibrations of his voice going straight to her clit. 

"You know what!" She whined, giving him her best 'puppy dog' eyes.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. But I want to hear you say it," he hissed. 

"Petyr please k-kiss my... My..." 

"Say it sweetling," he murmured right against the fabric of her underwear, and she couldn't help but moan at the feeling of his voice right on her cunt, his nose pressed against her clit. 

"My cunt," she whispered. 

He didn't reply, only smirked as he hooked his fingers around the waistband of her pink lace panties and dragged them down excruciatingly slow. Sansa bit her lip as the cool air hit her, and watched as Petyr sat up a little, bringing her silky fabric to his nose and letting out a low moan. 

"If you taste half as good as you smell then I'm in for a treat," 

He kept her panties gripped in one hand as he lowered his face between her legs. The first kiss he places was just above her slit. Sansa sighed, his lips had barely graced her skin and already she was finding it hard to keep quiet. The next was on her clit and she gasped, her noises getting slightly louder each time he kissed lower down. The last gentle kiss was right upon her entrance, where he paused for a moment. 

Sansa could feel his hot breath as he softly exhaled against her most sensitive area, and the soft bristles of his facial hair tickled her faintly giving her only the weakest of sensations. She would have begged him to move if he had made her wait much longer, but before the words could leave her panting mouth, he roughly licked one long line up her slit, causing her to cry out. 

"Petyr!" She yelled, wanting to cover up her mouth or bite her lip on instinct, but remembered that Petyr had told her that he wanted to hear every little sound she'd made. And if that's what her uncle wanted, what kind of a niece would she be to deny him that? If she listened closely, she could still hear the thumping music and loud buzz of the party going on a few floors down, but she wasn't listening closely because why the fuck would she care when she had her attractive uncle kissing, licking, sucking and oh god he was nipping at her clit, causing the most insane pleasure. 

Her moans and cries grew louder by the second. Sansa had no idea that him kissing between her legs could feel so much better than when she just played with her clit. For a moment she thought of how disappointed her parents would be if they saw her like this right now, their good, catholic daughter being pleasured by an older man who was her uncle by law. But as soon as Petyr thrust his tongue inside of her, rubbing his stubble against her cunt, those thoughts were tossed to the wind. "Petyr don't stop, oh god don't stop," she whined. 

Petyr lapped at her cunt like a desperate man- perhaps he was. The wet noises coming from his licking against her wet mess were completely obscene, and Sansa was too far gone into her own lust to even feel embarrassed anymore. The sounds only seemed to make her wetter as she moaned vulgarly. 

When he nipped at her clit again Sansa thrust her hips into his face and her hands flew into his previously orderly black hair. She didn't really care if he had no intention of stopping (which he clearly didn't) she was determined to keep him as close to her as possible. In the back of her mind she hoped she wasn't hurting him, or worse suffocating him- but then again, that'd be a good way to go really. Death by Sansa's cunt-she nearly giggled at that-what a story that would be for him to tell in heaven. Or perhaps hell would be more fitting for him. 

Petyr let out a moan of his own against her dripping pussy, making Sansa cry out herself as a result of those wonderful vibrations. When she looked down she saw that he had taken to pleasuring himself, with his hand shoved down his black underwear jerking himself off furiously. It only took her a few seconds to realise that it was her silk panties her was rubbing against himself, and she smirked at the fact that she was helping him get off in some way. 

Sansa's chest was heaving with loud gasps and moans, and she was beginning to get exceptionally hot. She knew her face must be bright red and she hoped that her makeup wasn't running too badly with the beads of sweat that were forming all over her heated body. Red curls from her once elegant bun fanned out either side of her head, ruined from her desperate head tossing and turning with pleasure against Petyr's expensive pillows. 

The man's tongue began thrusting in and out of her entrance again, tongue fucking her harshly. She began crying out the man's name incessantly, unable to keep a clear head as she could feel her orgasm building up in her abdomen. She began to thrust her hips to match his tongue's pace, desperate for more and more pleasure as she began to reach her peak. 

Petyr cried out loudly and his whole body stuttered as Sansa realised that he had came, and with the last force he could muster he began to fucking devour her, licking as hard as he possible could. And with one last long suck to her clit she screamed as her hips jerked against his mouth and she gained the unbelievable pleasure of the orgasm that he had given her. 

It took a few moments but their breathing eventually slowed down. Petyr propped himself up on his elbows, grinning at her and taking in her spent form, her wetness prominently glistening in his beard and moustache. 

"Jesus Christ," Sansa breathed out, "that was amazing." 

"Wasn't it?" Petyr agreed chuckling, pulling his hand out of his pants and crawling up the bed to lie by her side. "Thank you for that Sansa." 

"I should be thanking you! My god I didn't know it felt that good," she laughed airily. "Can... Can I stay the night?" 

"Of course you can, my sweet girl," Petyr laughed. "What, did you think I was just going to kick you out?" 

"I don't know, you're an unpredictable man," she teased. 

"Not unpredictable enough to kick out a beautiful girl I just gave a pretty amazing kiss to," 

"You're conceited, aren't you?" She joked sarcastically 

"You said it yourself!" He chuckled, "can I keep these by the way?" Petyr asked, holding up her underwear, "just for a little while at least. I should clean them for you, I'd hate for your mother or father to see them." 

Sansa bit her lip as she saw her previously pristine underwear stained with her own wetness and obscene white spatters of Petyr's own cum. 

"You can keep them, but I do want them back Petyr Baelish. They're my favourite pair and I paid good money for them!" 

"Of course," he promised, setting the panties down on the bedside table. Her uncle shuffled towards her, wrapping his arms around her waist and planting a wet kiss on her cheek. Sansa watched as his eyes fluttered shut, and amused herself with the thought that they were falling asleep in a very different manner than how they had down the previous night. 

"Petyr?" She asked quietly. 

"Hm?" He replied sleepily. 

"I want to play it. Whatever game you and Joffrey and Ramsay and everyone else are playing I want in and I want you to teach me. I refuse to be just a piece for them to play with." 

A proud smirk formed beneath Petyr's still closed eyes. "In the morning, we'll talk. Oh and Sansa?" He cracked one eye open, "you should get onto declining Ramsay's marriage proposal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this chapter I worked so hard on it, you'll have to excuse the fact that I've not written a scene like that in two years haha... Thanks for reading!


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